Irrelevant
by whitereflections12
Summary: In the beginning, Chase thought his problem was that he'd rather be anything, ANYTHING but in love with House. After the denial stops, he realizes that problem was nothing to all the ones that come after. (Starts in Detox, stays pretty close to canon though there will be divergences.) (Fic is currently in the process of some renovations, lol)
1. Detox

So about five years ago, I dared myself to write a HousexChase story. Essentially, that's how this story came into being, but more than that, it was a choice that made me a better writer and a better person. I still had some clinging homophobia from years of being told that homosexuality was a sin, but I was getting deeper and deeper into fandom and being exposed to ships and attitudes and information that was all making me question those beliefs. It was a weird time for me…I'd started to read slash, and I enjoyed it, and I was seeing them as the love stories they were, but I felt guilty for that, because my head was still nagging at me that it was wrong.

SO. In the midst of all that, I'd started to read a little House/Chase because I was trying to avoid House/Wilson(longer story, doesn't matter; I love House/Wilson now 3) and because I was curious about the ship because I just couldn't see it at all, and as I read I was realizing that at that point, post season 3 ,most of the House/Chase fic out there was just sex. I don't know what the ship is like now…I've been away so long and I've not yet started to read fic again because I haven't finished the show. I'm rewatching from the beginning, so I'm only in season 2 right now. BUT ANYWAY, the point is, on where I spent all my fanfic time in those years, I couldn't find a good House/Chase love story.

So I decided to write a House/Chase love story, because I didn't ship it, and if I could delve into it and make it feel real to me, explore just how and why they might actually come together, if I could make myself ship it when I didn't even understand it going in, maybe I could write a good story. In some ways, I feel I succeeded. I'm proud of my plot, and proud of a lot of the dialogue, but I'm most proud of the fact that I did it…that I branched out and did something that made me uncomfortable as a writer and a person, and it changed me. Not only did I become an actual House/Chase shipper, but it pushed me to question my beliefs even further, a road that led me to where I am today- a Christian who 100% supports equality and gay rights. So I'm sorry this author's note is so long but…I just have a lot of feelings about the fic and about what my work on it did for my life.

Here's what I didn't love about the fic, looking back: It's not as well written as the things I write now; of course it's not- I was 19. I'm 25, and I have written novel length fics in between now and then. I absolutely do not agree with anyone who says writing fic is practice for writing 'real' work; that's bullshit. Whether or not I ever publish I will write fanfic all my life because it makes me happy. _But_, I do feel that _all_ writing is practice. You learn as you do, and with every story, fanfic or original work, you get better. Part of what I want to do in editing this fic before I finish it is to polish it up, bring it up closer to the level of stuff I write now without utterly redoing it. It'll probably still have a slightly different style about it, but I can live with that. Second, I have to address the places in this fic where my hesitation held the boys back. Like I said, I was still struggling with a bit of homophobia, as well as some lingering doubts about whether I should be writing sex scenes…so gay sex scenes gave me all sorts of trouble, lmao I wanted to write them and I was incredibly reluctant to write them, so the result was that I glossed over a lot of aspects of their relationship, which is not ok. They're practically living together at a couple points here; we need to be seeing what their relationship is _really_ like. (Not to mention, I used similar avoidance with the Cameron and Stacy scenes…those are important events and we really should be seeing the thoughts of both House and Chase, but I avoided those scenes because they made me uncomfortable. One thing I have learned about being a writer is that you have to write the thing that makes you uncomfortable, you have to write it even if it makes you need a drink or if it makes you go outside and cry.

There won't be any more hiding, here. I'll tell the same story, but I'll tell it in full, and I'll tell it to the end. It shouldn't take me too long to edit through these chapters, and then I'll be writing new ones, which'll be interesting because I only know the very last scene. I don't quite know how we get there, or when that scene takes place. I'll figure it out as I go. :) Thank you to everyone who's stood by this story and remained interested in it, even when it seemed like I may never come back. I may fandom hop like a rabbit on crack, but I will always, always come back to the fandoms I love. 3

Ok, thank you if you read all of that, lmao On to the story, XD

* * *

He wasn't sure where it came from, in the beginning. Robert Chase was _not_, as so many people had thought either privately or in hushed whispers, gay. He was attracted to women, loved women, had never been attracted to a man, sexually or otherwise. Not that he really thought there was anything wrong with it, not _really_, he'd wavered on that even when he'd been in seminary, but still, it wasn't an issue for him. It wasn't personal; the answers didn't matter so much. He was straight; he was sure of it.

So in the beginning, he told himself he was just tired. How that explained it, he'd never know, but it was easy. Exhausting as their job was, he could make it fit. If his heart fluttered when House brushed his hand giving him an x-ray, he must just be feeling a little dizzy, overworked. If his chest constricted as he looked up into those too blue eyes, it was, really, just the exhaustion, maybe even a little frustration that House was so close, so disrupting. If his breath caught at the particular intensity of some comment or other, well, couldn't it mean he was just tired of hearing House talk? His frustration climbed with each incident heaped on the list, climbed until he found himself tensing every time House walked by, unsure if he wanted their arms to brush or if he wanted that solid glass table between them. He was tired, he was bored, he was nervous, he was anything, _anything_, but attracted to House.

He couldn't be attracted to House.

Unfortunately for his sanity, 'couldn't' is a relative word. Reality is never what it seems, and anything written off as an impossibility is almost sure to be disproven at some point or other. Eventually, even his careful rationalizations had to stop. He couldn't pinpoint the hour, couldn't even give a date, only knew that there was a time he rationalized, and a time he stopped. The trigger could have been anything, could have been the first morning he woke up hard and drowsy and half sure his dream continued and House was still next to him, or it might have been far simpler than that. The last of his quiet fear might have melted on an easy day, quiet and boring, newspaper folded open to the crossword as he counted letters to the steady thump of an oversized tennis ball against the wall.

His surrender was inevitable and therefore meaningless, or so House would have said. No man alive had a choice about the way he felt. The gap between realization and action, that, that was a choice.

* * *

_Detox_

"This is insane." Chase stabbed his salad a little harder than necessary, his fork missing the lettuce he aimed for and instead shoving it across the plastic bowl.

"No more insane than any of the things House does." Foreman shrugged, took a moment to snag a bite off his chicken salad sandwich. "She's just trying to make him see he's got a problem. You know House communicates in bets; I guess she thought this'd be a good way to do it."

Chase let the fork slip from his fingers, dropping to slick lettuce still cushioning the bowl. "Yeah, but House does what he does to save a patient. Cuddy's not saving anybody; she's just screwing with him for the sake of proving she's right."

"She could be saving House's liver, somewhere down the line." God, even Foreman's grip on his coke was irritating, so light, his hands relaxed and fluid. Of course he could smile, of course he could eat, could lean back and rest easy in a chair that wasn't even comfortable. Foreman didn't give a damn about House at all beyond how good his name would look on a resume. Forget empathy for his pain, so long as their case load and his success rate didn't drop, Foreman wasn't likely to care if House conducted the differential without any legs at all.

"Oh come on. Do you really think he'll stop? He'll win his month off clinic duty or he'll crack and he won't, but either way do you think House is really gonna give up the Vicodin?"

Foreman sighed, tipped his head toward Chase as he dusted crumbs off his fingers. "No. Hell no."

"Exactly. This isn't productive; he's suffering for nothing."

"And making us suffer."

Chase fought a grimace, half succeeded. Of course, what did House's pain matter when Foreman was enduring the clearly unbearable irritation of getting his head snapped off? Contrary to what Foreman might think, his time with House hadn't made him immune to the yelling. He might hate it, but House's occasional rage was familiar, bearable. What Chase _couldn't_ take had come after, in a glimpse through glass of House as he leaned on the wall. He'd watched until his eyes burned, and before he blinked, he'd caught the quiver of House's sleeve as his arm started to shake.

"Sure. We're suffering. We'll get through it. This kid, on the other hand, might not. He needs House, not us and a cheap imitation."

"I hope Cuddy realizes that before he's dead. "

Chase nodded, agreed, continued on as the conversation shifted from their case problems to the new Hispanic nurse in cardiology who had just left the table next to them. It was all autopilot, his mind drifting upstairs to House's office, the pain Chase knew he must be in, the question of whether or not he'd be too stubborn to take Vicodin if Chase brought him a script. Foreman talked about the plans he had for the weekend if they resolved the case by then, and Chase tried and failed to quell the rambling list of facts his mind had begun to supply on nerve damage and muscle death.

Maybe if he came at it just the right way he could talk House into going home, calling in for the differentials.

After dinner, he let Foreman head alone for the lab, passing off an excuse about a run to the bank he couldn't put off. Everybody lied, after all, even good Catholic boys. Or, at least, formerly good Catholic boys.

Alone, he headed up to House's office.

* * *

House sat alone in the dark, dragged down by exhaustion just enough that he'd missed the soft sound of Chase inching open the door, the muted clatter of the blinds as Chase parted them. He hadn't properly stirred even after Chase crept across to lean against the desk, though he was far from still. Chase watched, tracking the way his hand gripped his leg even in sleep, the soft murmurs that escaped his lips, the tilt of his torso to the right. He was in too much pain to function, too much pain to even sleep properly. Sure, if Chase was honest, he knew the detox was part of it; he wasn't blind. Drug dependence, however, wasn't the same thing as drug addiction. Physiologically that might be splitting hairs, but intent mattered. House needed those pills; any high he got from them was an unavoidable side effect. No matter what, that was what Chase had to believe.

House's fingers clenched against the fabric of pants, blunt nails dragging, half catching on the rarely distinguishable lip that Chase knew had to mark the crater in his thigh. His breath caught, and Chase pushed away from the desk.

"House?"

House twitched, half whimpered but slept on. Chase swallowed against the pressure in his throat, crossed the last few feet and let his hand fall to House's shoulder. His touch was light and still House jolted awake, angry eyes coming to rest on Chase after a quick flicker forward. After so long, Chase was no stranger to House's glares. He'd been the recipient of a few truly scathing stares, had felt the flinch and absent wonder if his will was current that scorched him his first few months on the job. He might not be on intimate terms with House, but he and House's rage had gone a few rounds.

This look, it couldn't even muster the firepower to make Chase let go.

"Sorry. I just…you weren't sleeping well. I thought…"

"I'm in pain! What the hell do you expect?" House jerked free of Chase's touch, reached for his cane only to wince and fall back, gripping at his shoulder. There had to be cramping, muscles strained by the use of his cane that he'd never noticed while with his Vicodin to keep him separate from such trivial pains.

Before he could think better of it, Chase stepped closer again. "Relax. I'm sorry I bothered you but don't get up, alright?" Surprisingly enough, House nodded, slightly, half leaned back before he turned and hooked the trash can with his cane, pulling it over far enough to vomit shakily into it. His left arm braced against the wall shook a little harder than Chase remembered from hours ago. His skin was pale, eyes ringed so dark they almost looked bruised.

It was too much for Chase to bear. His hand fell to House's shoulder again, massaged it soothingly. Beneath his palm he could feel House shiver, felt it bleed into a little increased pressure until House was leaning into him and away from the wall, shifting back little by little until he reclined in the chair again. As his head settled back against the headrest, his eyes fluttered closed. Entranced, Chase grew a little bolder, kneading deep into knotted muscle close to House's collar. His head tilted back, throat bared, and Chase dug the nails of his free hand into his palm to try and quell his racing heart. If he wanted to keep this up, he'd have to keep his eyes on his own hand, on House's shoulder or his leg, maybe even on the rise and fall of his chest. Anywhere, _anywhere_ but the expanse of bare skin at his throat that trailed down to his collar, the dark of stubble and the aching curiosity that came from not knowing how it would feel against his lips.

Every few seconds, House's breath seemed to grow a little more even, until Chase held his own and reached his left hand up to lay the back of it tentatively against House's forehead. His skin was clammy.

"House, if I got you some Vicodin-"

"No." He said it soft, eyes still closed, head shaking weakly. "I want that month off the clinic."

"This isn't worth it!"

"Freedom has a high price."

"This is insane. At least something for the nausea."

"No pills."

"_House_." He was a goddamn idiot. Most people, they _might_ have been willing to endure pain to get off narcotics. House was the only one he could think of willing to do it out of sheer spite. "You don't have to prove anything, you-"

"Either shut up, or leave."

Chase licked his lips uncertainly, mouth suddenly dry. House had, in a strange way, invited him to continue. How the hell could he pass that up? He could do this much to help, at least. House had enjoyed the massage the day before, but he'd been half sure that was only due to the ridiculously beautiful woman who gave it. At the time he'd been jealous, but if this worked...

Chase gave a last squeeze to House's shoulder before dropping to his knees, his movements slow and hesitant as he settled his hand flat against House's thigh. Slowly, but not quite slowly enough. House tensed, his hand shooting out to grab Chase's wrist. Still, his eyes didn't open, and though Chase's breath came out a little shaky, he didn't pull back.

"Wait, it helped yesterday, didn't it? It makes sense, if a massage can ease the muscle, eases the pain." Or the endorphins induced by the massage would make him feel like the pain was eased; either way, he didn't stand to lose anything for the sake of the attempt.

House was either in too much pain or too sick to argue. His grip went slack, and Chase pressed down, tentative until he felt out the edges of the old wound. They'd taken more than he expected. The hole was jagged, ridged with uneven skin that had knotted itself into painful scar tissue, though that had to be a drop in the ocean compared to the pain the nerve damage itself could cause. He started slow, his tracing movements circular, pressure increasing as he sought out those places where he could clearly feel the damaged muscle beneath, stretched taut.

House moaned, whisper soft, his fingertips brushing Chase's arm as he pulled his hand completely away to give Chase free rein. God, this was going to take reserves of self-control he didn't know he had, the kind they'd sworn back in seminary would be their salvation from sin. He'd never been all that good at resisting temptation, and he sure as hell couldn't deny the heat that had shot through his body at that sound. It made his head swim with a dozen ways to erase the context, to imagine how that sound would feel instead as a vibration against his tongue.

He couldn't let himself dwell on it, not here, not when this was in itself enough and more than he would've expected. There was, after all, intimacy in this too, in the way House let him touch, let his fingers probe and search, the way he seemed to rise just a little here and there into Chase's still steady fingers. At the press of the heel of his palm House sighed, and Chase felt a surge of affection for him so intense he thought stupidly that if he could, now would be the moment he'd wrap House up in his arms, now, while he was too limp to protest much.

_He's only letting you this close because he's in pain, you idiot. He's using you._ He had to remember, had to keep it in mind because, after all, intent mattered. His, and House's. He was willing enough to be used, but he couldn't let himself be fooled.

Soon, House's steady breathing told Chase he had dropped off to sleep. Peacefully, this time. Chase pushed himself up from the flow, wincing a bit at the protestations of his knees. He could feel the imprint of the carpet, but House was limp in that chair, arm hanging over the side. That would have been worth another hour on the floor, easy.

He was out hard, enough that he didn't stir when Chase moved to step away. After resisting so much, the temptation to touch was too great. He kept it light, just the pads of his fingers against House's cheek because in case he did wake, in case he asked, it was nothing, nothing but shifting his head over so his neck wouldn't hurt(though he didn't dare actually try to move him, not an inch).

Mumbling in his sleep, House turned into the touch, nuzzling against his hand before going still again. Chase froze, breath caught in his chest for a dizzying 30 seconds or so before he could bring himself to draw his hand away. He flexed his fingers, bit his lip and counted off another minute or so, though there was nothing to wait for. House was asleep. He didn't know what he was doing; obviously. Could have been anyone there, nothing more than a response to stimulus. At most, he'd stirred up an old memory.

Looking down, his head told Chase he should've seen only his mother, passed out on the couch with a flask trailing from her fingers, but the whisper of _it's not like that; he's not like her_ was louder. He thought instead of pre-med, a few months in Sydney of waking up next to a girl who stayed up late and slept in, a musician who'd still be curled in sunbeams in his bed when he popped in around noon. It had always made him smile to see her there, sometimes with the sleeves of his shirt swallowing her arms, falling down over her hands. She'd been so beautiful then, but here House was, fully clothed and untouchable and in his damn office chair and Chase's chest still hurt, his ribs too tight. The way the lines on his face had smoothed just a little, the limp fall of his wrist…

It was better. It was better, and it shouldn't have been, and he was a fucking idiot. _Snap out of it, Chase; for God's sakes._

Shaking his head to clear it, he slid from the room without a sound.

* * *

_5 Days Later_

As usual, Chase was the last one of the underlings to leave the office. He passed House on his way out, sprawled in his chair, headphones in. He'd had his drugs back a day already and still he was basking in the glory of it. Just this evening, Chase had caught him popping an extra pill, half hidden after a bite of sandwich. They could only hope his good mood would last a week or so. "G'night, House."

House looked up, slid his hand in his pocket and pulled out his iPod, pausing it. "What?"

Chase shrugged. "Just saying goodnight. I'm heading home."

"Last one to leave…nothing to go home to, but then neither do they. Just slow, or is there something else you wanted to say?"

_Yes._ "No."

"Ok." Chase's hand was on the door when he spoke again. "Would you really have brought me Vicodin?" For a moment, Chase considered pointing out that rather than merely a sign of reluctant patients, the phenomenon of the doorknob question seemed a base human trait. He licked his lips, hesitated, decided against it.

"What?"

"The other day, would you really have brought me Vicodin if I'd agreed?"

Chase stalled, one finger tapping on the glass. He knew his answer to this would be important. "I…yeah. I would've." He should have elaborated more, but it was all he could say. He looked over at House, almost certain he could see the wheels turning, see House filing him away as a drug connection. He wasn't surprised to find he didn't much care.

"Foreman tried."

That, he hadn't been expecting. "Foreman? Not Cameron?"

"Shocking, isn't it? She's the only one who didn't. I'll have to try to figure out what that says later. Right now, I'm trying to figure out you." House cut his eyes at him, a dark edge in them, a slight grin on his face. "Like where you learned how to give a massage."

Chase looked away, heart thudding. He loved and hated the way House was looking at him. If House knew…God, he'd never hear the end of the teasing. "See you tomorrow." He was out the door before House could say anything else.


	2. Sports Medicine

_(Sports Medicine)_

"We've stabilized his heart rate." Exhausted, Chase leaned against the glass doorframe until the pressure hurt. If he was going to stay on his feet, he needed the reminder to stay awake. He had thought for a while there they were going to lose this guy for sure, but now that the immediate triumph was wearing off, the question of just how many hours straight he'd been awake was starting to trickle in. House had his back to him, staring intently at the whiteboard, cane tapping on the surface.

"Good."

"He's hallucinating now."

"Not so good." House left the board to pour himself another cup of coffee, and Chase swallowed a pang of guilt. House'd be here all night, no question, and he'd just been thinking about ducking out. "What's the hallucination?"

"His manager, mostly. A couple of teammates at one point, I think."

House finally turned, eyebrows rising when he saw Chase. "Damn, you look awful."

"You spend God knows how many hours trying to stabilize an uncooperative heart and tell me how _you_ look."

"Your sacrifice of beauty was worth it, Cinderella; you succeeded. So either go find me something that explains all those systems or go home, shower, sleep, speak to your fairy godmother, and be here early."

Chase sighed, resigned himself to another fifteen minutes at least. He pushed off the door frame and snagged a chair, immediately sinking into it. "I don't know what could cause it. It doesn't make any sense."

"Obviously." House sipped his coffee in silence. Chase seized the opportunity to change the subject, before House came up with another theory that couldn't be a theory but that would take him another twenty minutes to shoot down. Plus, honestly, he had a couple questions of his own.

"Makes about as much sense as you taking Cameron to a monster truck rally."

"What part surprises you, that I love monster trucks or that I asked Cameron?"

"Both. But I've known you love monster trucks, I just don't understand why." He didn't, not even a bit, but that had never detracted from the way he loved to watch House watching. Moments like that he reminded Chase of the daredevil boy he must have been, history captured in the blink-and-you'd-miss-it flick of light at the moment the truck's tires left earth. Endearing; that was the word. It was unnervingly endearing. "And why did you ask Cameron?"

House shrugged. "She was there, she wasn't busy…" House trailed off, his face suddenly more solemn. "What's Wilson doing Friday night?"

"Cancer dinner." Even as he was speaking, House was shaking his head.

"Cameron said he cancelled."

"But he blew you off?" It came out before he realized what he was saying. Chase winced internally, cursing himself for the increase in the darkness in House's eyes when he said it. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like it just; that's just so odd. I can't imagine-"

House reached in his coat pocket, shook his pill bottle and tossed back a Vicodin. "It doesn't matter."

"Sure it does. He's your best friend." Chase felt sick, angry at Wilson for hurting House and angry at himself for bringing it up. Mostly, he was angry at Wilson. "Maybe he has a good reason."

"Sure."

"I'm sorry."

"What the hell for? It isn't your fault. You're not even involved."

"Can't I ever feel empathy for another person?"

House rolled his eyes. "No. You do it too much."

"Not as much as Cameron."

House deposited his half full coffee cup by the sink. "Yeah, well she's the only one that can reach that incredible level of self-punishment." Slowly, he crossed the room to stand over Chase. "I'm taking her because it was easy to. Because she likes me, and she wouldn't say no." He switched hands with his cane, right hand splayed across the glass table top and leaned in closer. "And why are you so curious? Unless…"

He let the statement hang for a moment, watched Chase fight the urge to squirm, his eyes carefully on the floor instead of on House.

"Maybe I should have asked you."

Chase laughed, soft and humorless. "Right. Hate monster trucks, sorry."

"_You_ like me."

House was grinning, a jackal with a cornered hare. Chase wondered if House could sense the race of his pulse, tried frantically to squash the thought when it only made his heart fight harder. "Course I don't."

House cocked his head, leaned an inch or so closer. "See, you say no, but you won't look at me. Oh, this is _fun_."

Chase jerked his head up, met House's gaze with enough fury that he hoped it masked everything else. "Drop it, House." He stood up, pulling his chair backwards to step away as quickly as possible. Chase even made it all the way to the door without looking back, his eyes on the carpet, on the smudged fingerprints in whirls against the metal handle he gripped. "I don't like you."

"They teach you to lie like that in seminary?"

If it would have been any other door, Chase would have slammed it behind him.

* * *

_The following Monday morning_

The newspaper was slammed down in front of Chase with surprising force. Of course, working where he did, nothing should surprise him anymore. "Good morning. Done the crossword yet?"

Chase blinked, turned around in his seat to focus on House. "Ah…no. I just woke up an hour ago, just walked in the door and sat down. We don't have anything pressing, so I'm not really awake yet."

"Your loss. Oh well. You'll have plenty of time. After you're done doing my clinic hours for me. There's a game on I wanna watch on ESPN, then there's General Hospital."

Chase rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll get right on it."

"You should. I'm your boss."

"We all do our own clinic hours."

"Doesn't mean you can't do mine."

Chase wandered over to start the coffee. "Course not. Why would I not be excited about extra clinic hours?"

"Do I detect sarcasm? That's not very nice you know."

"Neither are you."

House laughed at that, just a little. "Nice."

Damn, they were down to the last coffee filter. Chase shook it out of the box, slowed his movements to focus on his hands. "So, what's with your mood? Date with Cameron go well?" As he asked, he crushed the box with rather more force than necessary and hoped House still had his back to him.

"Sure. But it wasn't a date."

"Right. Just sounded that way. And looked that way." He shoved the coffee pot into the slot. "That's how she took it, you know."

"I know. You jealous?"

He had noticed House's voice growing closer, but he hadn't been paying attention to how close. When Chase turned, he had little personal space left. Reflexively he backed up a step, stopped by the cabinet. "Cut it out, House."

"Mmmm…." House scrunched up his face, too amused to pass for thoughtful, not when Chase knew his looks so well. "No. See, if there was nothing to my suspicions you wouldn't have backed away, just pushed past me. Most people have a thing about personal space, sure, but proximity to a non-stranger isn't enough to make anyone nervous unless-"

"You make me nervous because you're creepy." Chase moved to pass him, stopped when House caught his arm. House's hand was warm, calloused and sure. If his grip hadn't been so tight, it wouldn't have mattered. Chase was frozen.

"Maybe you like creepy." Their eyes met, emerald on electric blue and House was so damn close, his fingers clenched on Chase's arm. Too close. Chase yanked his arm away, hated the way his breath pulled up short when he did. He'd been frozen what, ten seconds? Longer? He hadn't pulled away; House wouldn't have missed it. Chase had no clever excuse ready, nothing but anxiety and the urge to put as much ground between him and House as possible. He was close enough that Chase could smell the scent of body wash clinging to his skin.

"Go to hell." Chase veered left and headed for the door, ready to be anywhere but there.

"I'll get right on that. Meanwhile, you go for me. It's downstairs, and make sure you sign my name in the book."

Chase didn't reply.

* * *

House didn't knock on Wilson's door, just shoved it open and settled down in the chair across from the desk. "So. Stacy. How was she?"

Wilson let his pen drop, nodded before he looked up, before he even tried to speak. "She was…good. She seemed happy."

House tipped his head forward, let out the breath he hadn't exactly meant to hold. "Good. That's good." He tapped his cane on the floor to a rhythm only he could hear, some half remembered song from the day before. "She ask about me?"

"Of course she asked about you."

"What did you tell her?"

Wilson busied his fingers with a folded paperclip, smoothing and straightening a barely existent bump. Whatever was coming, it wouldn't be the truth, not all of it. "I told her you were fine."

House snorted. "She saw right through that. You are _such_ a bad liar. I don't know how your wives ever fall for it."

"She saw through it because she knows you. But, I think she wanted to hope I was right."

"Right." Because there was no way on earth to determine his well being without asking Wilson; none at all. It wasn't like she still had his number or anything, wasn't like he'd written her, two months after he moved. If she was so crushingly concerned, she could have called. "You two have a good time catching up?"

"Yes…where is this going?"

"Nowhere." House shoved the chair back, grabbing his cane and heading for the door.

"Are you sure we're done talking about this? No other questions no…I don't know, something else?"

"Why? It's not like I can talk to her about any of it." The look Wilson gave him then was pained and concerned and he bristled. "I'm _fine_." With a deep breath he softened, just a little. "Just wanted to make sure she was alright. Some people confide in you."

"Certainly not you."

"What do you want me to tell you, Jimmy? My deepest, darkest secrets?"

Wilson leaned back in his chair, eyes casting over him with that look that said he was cataloguing, catching House's grip on his cane, the set of his mouth, the tint of his eyes. When it came to the two of them, Wilson was smarter than almost everyone gave him credit for; House had learned that long ago.

"I'd take a pretty basic secret."

"Sorry, all out of those." House's hand dropped to the door handle and he tilted his head, half looking back with a smile he knew would just catch Wilson's eye. "Oh, by the way- Chase has a crush on me. See ya at lunch." He yanked the door open in one movement, disappearing while Wilson's mouth was still hanging open.


	3. Questions of Uncertainty

Again,thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! (and thank you so much, bookgodess15, for the lesson about the ellipses and the addict comments made me smile.)

Don't own House. If I did, there wouldn't be discussion of whether he'd end up with Cuddy or Cameron… He'd be marrying me. heh heh

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It took him a moment to recover from the initial shock, but Wilson made pretty good time getting to his feet and out into the hallway. "House! Wait!" Predictably, he didn't, but he was easy enough to catch. "Are you serious?"

"I'm surprised at you! When have you known me to not be serious?"

"Hey." Wilson tugged on his friend's arm, tried to make him face him. "This is important."

"To you? I don't see why. But it is funny, isn't it?"

"So it is true."

They had reached the oncology lounge. House pulled the door open wide enough for Wilson to follow him in. Luckily, it was empty. "Oh yeah. It's definitely true. Sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction. Like, I could say that me and Cuddy had outrageous sex on her desk last night but that'd just be too easy to believe."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's what I would have thought."

House pulled open a couple of cabinets and proceeded to make himself a peanut butter sandwich. "Breakfast of champions. Want one?"

Distracted, Wilson shook his head, sinking onto the sofa. "No… What are you going to do?"

"Eat breakfast, I told you."

"About Chase!"

"Oh, that. I dunno. I gotta figure that out. In the meantime, messing with him sure is fun though. He nearly jumped out of his skin when I came up behind him this morning."

Wilson looked up, took in everything about House as he spoke. He was grinning. "You're enjoying this."

"Thoroughly. Why shouldn't I?"

"Because it's messing with someone's emotions."

"And that's wrong?"

Wilson sighed. "Of course. I'm talking to you. My definitions of right and wrong have to be adjusted." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking. He had a headache. House's problems always gave him headaches, probably because they became his own. "Seriously, House… What are you going to do?"

Holding the sandwich in one hand House limped over to the couch, collapsing beside Wilson and letting his cane fall against the coffee table. "I actually don't know. Haven't given it too much thought. Been having too much fun."

"Don't hurt him, House." He was more serious now, eyes intent. "As abrasive as you are, you usually stop short of doing any real damage but love is more fragile. Just because this amuses you doesn't give you the right to…" he wasn't sure how to finish that. The appropriate words just wouldn't come. "You're certainly not the right person to let him down easy."

House shrugged non-commitally and took a bite of his sandwich.

"How are you going to tell him? You want me to help you come up with something?"

" Said I didn't know what I was doing."

Something in the way he said it, or maybe just natural curiosity but Wilson sat up straighter, leaned closer. "You're not… You don't like him, do you?"

"You know, answering the same question over and over is getting really boring. I told you I didn't know."

"You don't know if you like him?!" The shock was extreme. House? _House_? With Chase? House didn't look him at, continued to eat his sandwich as if nothing earth shattering had been said. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe he shouldn't be shocked. This was House, after all. He ran on the belief that no one else's opinions mattered, what others thought was insignificant. Trivial. If he did like Chase, there would be no inhibitions to stop him like most people would have encountered. He had never known House to be attracted to men, but now that he thought about it, perhaps that shouldn't take him so much off guard either. House loved beautiful women as much as any man, but he had always been drawn to personality. No matter what he said, Wilson had known for ages he didn't think Chase as much of an idiot as he pretended to. But still… It was all too much to process. He felt like his head was spinning, and he wasn't even really involved. "House? _Do_ you like him?"

Reaching for the remote, House switched the TV off the news and onto ESPN, then turned off the mute. "Shhh. Flyer's game. Missed it last night, they're reshowing it."

Frustrated, Wilson contemplated yanking the remote out of his hand. "We need to talk about this."

"What is there to talk about? I told you, I don't know anything!" He sounded annoyed now, and maybe just a little nervous. Well, he might not be lying in one respect. Maybe he was uncertain.

Either way, Wilson seriously needed to get back to work. He had an appointment at nine. He stood slowly, working over what he was going to say. "If you do like him…that's alright you know."

"No one asked you. Now either sit down and watch the game with me, or go do some super important doctor stuff."

Reaching down, Wilson pulled the last half of House's sandwich out of his lap. "If you're unsure, that's fine. But if you mess with him too much while you're figuring it out, you could push him away. Just don't make a mistake." Taking a bite of the sandwich he turned and headed for the door. "Thanks."

"That was my breakfast!"

"Oh grow up. I might feel bad if you didn't steal food from me every time I ate."

"You're buying lunch."

"How is that abnormal?"

Wilson pulled the door shut behind him as he left, allowing himself a small smile only once he was out of sight. He had known House for years but this… This was new. It could go either way, good or bad, or it could mean nothing. But House seemed uncertain, edgy, and that had to count for something. He hadn't had a relationship since Stacy. If he did try this, he wouldn't be alone anymore. He might even be happy again. _If he'd allow himself to be_. That, Wilson knew, would be the hardest part.

HHHHHHHHH

"I hurt it falling down the stairs, at school."

"Uh-huh." Chase rummaged around in the drawer, digging out supplies. He hadn't really had a better idea, so he had gone ahead and started House's clinic hours. At least it got him out of the office. Foreman and Cameron might drift down here eventually to do their own, or they might put up with House. He really didn't care. They wouldn't have the same trouble with it as he currently was.

"I think it could be broken, but I'm not really sure. It felt kind of numb and tingly for a minute and really weird."

"Sounds like a break. We'll get you an x-ray, then we'll go from there."

"Cut my other arm, too. Think it needs stitches?"

Chase turned around to look at the girl behind him, focus on the arm she was holding up. She was collage aged, thin with dark, dyed red hair, green eyes and pale skin. She wore tattered jeans and a white t-shirt for some band he'd never heard of and a faded, rolled black bandana around her neck. Her left arm bore a cut from her elbow about halfway up her forearm. Yes, that definitely needed stitches. Looked painful. He pulled out more supplies. Normally, he would have asked her questions, carried on conversation. He didn't feel like it today. His mind was too far elsewhere. Still, he'd make a vague attempt. "You did this on the stairs?"

"Yeah, totally clumsy of me I know. It was outside, dark and I was on my way back to my dorm from the library. I saw this cat, over out of the corner of my eye, and I wanted to go over to her and make sure she was alright but I wasn't paying attention and I sort of missed the last step. Fell on my right wrist funny, ran my left arm over a rock."

"Well, it could have been worse. Could have hit your head. You might have nasty scar though."

The girl shrugged. "That's alright. I don't mind. Scars remind you where you've been."

He looked up at her then, curious. A profound statement for someone so young. "That's a good approach to take."

She smiled warmly. "It's what my mom always says. She tried to kill herself when she was 14, cut her wrists. She says the scars remind her what it was like to be that low, all the reasons she did what she did. And it reminds her of every reason she decided she wanted to live. She says you can't be happy unless you've first wanted to die. She read it in a book that same year, 8th grade. The Count of Monte Cristo."

Chase's eyebrows rose. This girl talked of her mother's suicide attempt so easily... Like it was nothing. Or, at least, nothing to get upset over.

"Your mom, she have depression problems now?"

"Oh no, she's great now. She's really happy, says she has the best life in the world, but she would have never known it if she hadn't realized what she could have lost."

"How'd she get out of it? Anti-depressants?" Maybe he was prying but he was curious. Besides, she didn't seem to mind talking.

"No, she doesn't believe in them. Not that she doesn't think they work, but she thinks they don't really make you happy…just neutral or content. Or fake happy. She said a friend pulled her out of it, made her believe in unconditional love a few reasons to live. Like the fact that you can't change the past but the future's always up for grabs."

Finished with her cut, Chase stood to put the supplies away. "Your mother sounds like a very strong woman."

"Oh, she is."

Chase smiled, slightly. "Alright, Gwyn, all done for the moment. I'll go get you set up for that x-ray, alright? And if I don't see you again, be careful on those stairs."

"I will. But it was worth it." She smiled, warmly. "I caught the cat."

HHHHHHHHH

He stopped at a bookstore on the way home and searched and debated for about 10 minutes before he pulled a $5.95 paperback copy of Count of Monte Cristo off the shelf and paid for it. He had been thinking ever since his conversation with the girl that morning, unable to get her mother's story out of his head. Was happiness really just the comparison with something else? If that was the case, he knew his life had sucked enough to recognize it. Apparently, it just hadn't come around yet. Neutral worked for him. Happy… That would be foreign.

More than himself, he thought about House. Much as he had pissed him off that morning, he thought about House's depression more than he'd care to admit. He never wanted to sound arrogant but he had always thought maybe if House could ever let himself be loved… Maybe he could turn it around. Have a real life.

In his dreams, he was the answer. He wanted to believe that he could somehow be the difference. When he thought about it, though, he always came to the conclusion that he wouldn't care who it was, so long as House wasn't a danger to himself anymore.

A lie, but a good one. He might be happy for him, on the surface, on the inside as well, but he would care. He couldn't stop it. Even days like today, when he was angry. He wasn't sure exactly what that meant. He had never really been in love.

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Hope you guys enjoyed it! I had fun with my clinic patient, and messing with Chase's head… And tossing in one of my favorite books of all time.

Much love(and I adore your reviews).


	4. Cursed

Thank you to all my readers! I love you guys!

Here's the next chapter. Wrote this at 1:30 AM… I had planned to write it earlier but instead I watched Lady In The Water(GOOD movie…least I thought so.).

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_(Cursed)_

Everything always had to go from bad to worse. It had been a week since House said anything, almost like he let it drop. Almost. There were moments Chase had been sure he'd bring it up again but he hadn't. All too good to be true. He knew something would go wrong—he just hadn't expected it to be in the form of his dad walking through the door. He had had a friend in med school that had been fond of saying life was a bitch… At the moment, he found himself agreeing.

He pushed back in his chair, halfheartedly watching the screen before him. The test for fungus on the fibers wouldn't be done for a bit. He was glad he was the only one in the lab, it could be a good place to think sometimes.

What House was planning to do to him next was slightly better to think about than his dad's strange appearance, but his dad… That was more pressing. Why the hell was he even here? He had been in town before, Chase knew. He had watched for conferences, checked for his dad's name. He looked out for him, every now and then. Just to see if he was around. Not once had the man ever come to see him, not once had he even called. Not that Chase was surprised. Their last meeting hadn't been the happiest incident ever. He hadn't seen him since med school, hadn't even spoken with him for a few years now. He hadn't really missed it, though he would be lying to himself if he said he hadn't missed his presence.

No matter how much he hated him, his dad had been around all his life. He loved him because it was inevitable. He despised him because he had loved his mother more, and because he felt in his heart that though both of them had loved Rowan Chase they had never been loved in return. He could still remember how it felt the day his dad left, could still remember thinking naively, _He loves me. He'll come back. I know he'll come back._

It didn't take for long for that sentiment to fade. The more time passed the more his father had realized he had pushed too far, he was no longer welcome in Chase's life. It was never stated that he didn't want to see him again, but it was implied that he wouldn't be missed. He had taken the hint. So why did he disregard it now? Was he here to apologize? "Little late for that." He said it to no one in particular, aimed at the microscope beside him.

The machine before him beeped loudly, alerting him to his test results. Negative. Well, there went one idea out the window. Time for further testing. He'd go get everyone, and hope that his father would be gone by now.

HHHHHHHHH

_Later that day_

"Why did you bring my dad into this?"

House twirled around in his seat, swiveling between the computer screen and Chase. "He's a good doctor."

"No. That's not it."

"It's relevant to the case. Rheumatologist and all that."

"No. Not it either. We don't know what this poor kid has."

House stopped swiveling long enough to cock his head and fix chase with a semi-annoyed stare. "Why did you even ask the question since you're shooting down every answer? If you know the answer, why even ask me?"

Chase looked away, indecisive. "Because… I was hoping you'd leave it alone."

"Right."

"House…" He looked so agitated then, almost plaintive. Definitely enough to pique House's curiosity further. "I'd really, really appreciate it if you left this alone. It's none of your business."

Swiping his tennis ball up in one hand, House bounced it absently against the wall over his computer. "I made it my business. Too interesting to pass up."

"Glad to know you're enjoying studying me." There was just enough bitterness in his voice that House almost wondered if he was pushing it.

"What's the story between you two? Did he cheat on your mother? Molest you? What?"

"I'm not your damn science experiment, House. And I'm not your next fix either. Stop diagnosing this."

HHHHHHHHH

Shortly after Chase left, he pulled out Meteroid Prime. It was a good game for thinking. He had played it so many times he could do the easy parts in his sleep and the hard parts pretty much on auto pilot.

So… Chase had daddy issues. Interesting. He had asked the two questions that first came to mind. Common things, problems he knew went on. The third most common question had lain in his throat unasked. He couldn't get it out. Maybe he just didn't want to know an answer that would hit so close to him, because if it did that'd be a connection. Not to mention, a reopening of old wounds. He had enough wounds in various states of healing as it was.

Then there was Chase himself… He hadn't made up his mind, yet. It was funny to have it hang over Wilson's head, to watch the anxious look that came over his face every time he burst into his office. As if House was going to come in there and declare his and Chase's marriage or something. Please. Wilson should know better.

The oddity of it was that this was something he couldn't really ask Wilson. He had been going to Wilson with problems for years, getting help by talking around the subject if not by addressing it outright. _First boss level… _The game would get a little harder after this.

Cons: He'd never done anything like this before. Not that new was always bad. It also could get complicated. Relationships usually did, no matter how hard people tried. And then there was the issue of trust, and his lack of it. Nothing good could ever come of him starting a relationship with anybody. Stacy had proved that.

But, at the same time…. Pros: Chase made him laugh. He was funny and actually attractive. The last part had surprised him when he had first thought of it, but he suspected he'd always known it, caring on some level that he had never bothered to pay attention to. He'd probably get some sex out of it. Nothing bad about sex. And…if he was going to be brutally honest, he hated being alone. He'd have someone to be with, to spend time with and maybe…

Maybe his brain had just gone fuzzy, thinking about Stacy. He had had that once. He couldn't have it again.

He blew up his next enemy with a bomb, then added a few shots for good measure. Even after it was dead. A knock on the glass startled him out of his thoughts. _Damn. __Concerned father._

Still, better than absent father. Or non-concerned son.

HHHHHHHHH

_Just wanted to say hi this time._

_You said it, you're still here._

_I miss you._

The conversation had been playing Chase's head all night, over and over like some damned broken record. _I miss you._ Did the man have any idea how long Chase had ached to hear that? How long he had _wanted_ to be missed?

_I left your mother. I didn't leave you._

Wasn't it the same thing? It wasn't like he had tried very hard to stick around… He just picked up everything one day and he was gone. Out of their lives, a vague promise to Chase that nothing would change. He was still his boy, nothing would change. Everything had changed. He was lucky to see him once every couple weeks or so, even luckier on the off chance he'd actually come to something when Chase asked him. Actually take him out to a football match or hiking or any of those other things men did with their sons. Tears clouded his vision and he rubbed them furiously away, the monitor before him swimming back into focus.

He hated him. He loved him.

He wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe so damn badly that his chest ached with it, so bad he felt sick thinking of it. Wanting and doing were two different things. The doubts and the wanting had taken up some sort of deadly dance, plenty of ammo for each to wound the other. He was exhausted by the battle.

More than anything else, he wished his dad would have just stayed in Australia.

HHHHHHHHH

_2 days later_

He had been so ready to tell him. Ironic, really. He had actually chosen what seemed the "right" thing to do, then hadn't done it. When he thought about it, he had been surprised to find that he didn't want to hurt him, but even more he didn't want him to be blindsided by his father's death. Even kids who pretended to hate their dad would have been affected by that, he knew. Personal experience really could tell you a lot, sometimes.

Something about the way he had said he didn't care…. That had stopped him. Chase was dealing. He was adjusted. He was intently not facing his feelings for his father. He had his reasons. He wasn't sure, exactly, why he had changed his mind about telling him. Maybe it was hearing that Chase had tried, and his dad had still let him down, maybe that struck a familiar chord. Chase had confided in him to a certain extent, given him a few answers. Maybe that was all he had wanted. Either way, it was a waiting game now. Unless Rowan changed his mind at the last minute, it'd be up to him to keep an eye on the Australian papers in three months time.

HHHHHHHHH

_The following night_

House leaned against the rooftop ledge, eyes on the cars below and a cigarette in his hand. He didn't smoke often, but he would when his nerves got the better of him. Not that he ever wanted anyone to know that. That was sort of the point of the cigarettes. There was a drug to manage everything... Trick was knowing what it was.

He heard the door behind open but didn't turn. "Gabe's been discharged." Chase.

"Good."

"Didn't know you smoked."

"Not often."

"That'll give you lung cancer."

Boy, would he have loved to examine all the irony in that statement. "I _said _not often."

Chase drifted forward to join him, leaning against the nearby wall instead of the railing, silent.

"Your father go home?" Out of the corner of his eye he watched Chase nod.

"Last night."

"You two catch up?"

"Not really. Didn't have time." Chase shifted uneasily, eyes darting to House. "Told him I'd get down to Australia next fall, see him then."

House at once had the urge to swear and laugh but did neither. "Actual talking that time?"

"Maybe."

House rubbed his cigarette out on the ledge and dropped it to the street below, watching until he lost it somewhere over sidewalk. "You're not quite so pissed off at me today."

"You did what you always do. You just…did it to me. It sucks."

He smiled, left his position at the rail to approach the other man. "True. But all the other people I screw with…they hate me. You got over it. Pretty fast, I'd say." He moved in close, pinning Chase into the corner.

"Wilson."

"He doesn't count. He's related. In some weird way." House rested his right arm against the wall, leaned over Chase. "I knew I was right about you."

Chase swallowed hard. "Cuddy?"

"Doesn't count either. Admit it." Their eyes were locked, Chase frozen like a deer in the headlights as House moved closer to him.

"I don't-"

"Hush." With his left hand House tipped his chin up, brushed his lips against his. Chase inhaled sharply, tensed, then relaxed as House increased the pressure. Finding that he was indeed receptive House moved forward and deepened the kiss, easing Chase's lips open. After the initial shock the younger man responded, tongue moving hesitantly against his own. It was gentle and uncertain, warm and oh so fascinating… But he had done this as an experiment only. He had to think. House pulled away sharply. "Goodnight. See you tomorrow." He turned quickly and yanked the door open, leaving Chase leaning bewildered against the brick wall.

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Part of me hates leaving poor Chase like that, but cliffhangers are a writer's friends.

Right. 3:20 AM. Going to bed now. lol

I **heart::** reviews.


	5. Effects

The encouragement is beautiful. I will TRY to keep up my update pace, though I slipped today…just one chapter instead of two(actually, it's still up in the air whether I finish this one tonight or not. Going to bed at a halfway decent hour sounds a bit attractive…)

I don't own House. Grr.

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He was glad for the brick wall behind him. He wasn't sure he trusted his legs, or his sense of direction. All of it seemed a little shaky. Chase rested one hand against the ledge beside him, leaned his weight on it and let out the air he hadn't realized he was holding. Shaky. He licked his lips nervously, an action that sent another shock through his body. He could still taste House on his lips. He had tasted predictably of cigarettes but of more than that…. Something heady and dark he couldn't quite describe but that had left him feeling high.

He didn't hear the door across open, took no notice at all until Wilson called his name twice. His head came up then, perhaps suspiciously quickly. "Yes?"

"Do you know where House is? Thought I saw him come out here earlier?"

"He was, ah, out here, yeah. Yeah he was. Just a minute ago. Just left."

Wilson's eyes narrowed. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing. Just told him patient's been discharged. Dad went home. All that." He was speaking unnaturally fast but there was little he could do about it. He felt like his heart had been transplanted from a hummingbird.

"What did he do?"

"Ah, ah… Nothing. Nothing." He didn't want Wilson asking any more questions. That one in particular had brought up a rather vivid memory of exactly what House _had_ indeed done. He was anxious to leave and let his head swim in peace. "Gotta go. See you tomorrow."

HHHHHHHHH

He answered the phone on the third ring. "What the hell did you do to Chase?"

"No hello? Jimmy, I'm surprised at you."

"Not funny. What did you do?"

"You know I don't like talking on the phone."

Wilson signed heavily. "Fine. I'll be right over."

"Bring food if you want me to let you in."

HHHHHHHHH

"Oh score. Love this stuff." House tugged at the plastic bag with one hand, pulling a container of pad thai out onto the table. He groped around for a plastic fork before pulling it back onto his lap and eating hungrily. Wilson passed by from the kitchen, dropping a napkin on his arm and a beer on the floor beside him.

"Yeah, I know. Enjoy. And tell me what you did to Chase."

"First, I haven't watched the new episode of The OC." His questioning look was shot down by a glare from Wilson.

"No. I didn't come over here to watch stupid teenage soap operas with you. I want to know what happened."

"Geez. Touchy."

Wilson settled down on the couch, pulling his own food forward and tucking a napkin in next to him. "I'll watch whatever you want. It's not like I ever have much choice in the matter. But Chase looked like he'd just seen a ghost. Don't even try telling me you weren't involved."

"Did he really?"

"What?"

"Look that surprised."

"Yes… Why? What did you tell him?"

House shrugged, pulled his beer up for a swig. "I might have kissed him. Hypothetically." Wilson's eyes bugged nearly out of his head and House choked back a laugh. The entertainment value in Wilson's look alone was worth telling him all of this. "Seriously, Wilson, you might want to blink. I don't think that's healthy."

"You… And what did you tell him then?"

"Nothing."

Wilson let his head fall back against the sofa, studying the ceiling. "So let me get this straight. You haven't discussed anything with him. You kiss him. Then you… What, just leave?"

"Yeah, that was pretty much it. Said I knew he liked me. But I'd already told him that."

"You're still messing with him. That's low, even for you."

House resumed eating, eyes glued to the TV. "I was curious."

"About what, his reaction or yours?" House didn't answer immediately, even though he knew Wilson would push it. "Both?" More silence. "And?"

"And… It was an experiment. You know, scientific method and all that."

"Only you could apply that to relationships. What are you findings, doctor?"

"Need further testing."

"I can't believe you. Don't screw with him like this. Either tell him you're interested or tell him you're not."

Irritated, House tossed everything down on the table hard enough to send it sliding to the edge. "Yeah? And which is it? Tell me, Wilson, since you seem to be inside my head. Tell me what the hell I want to do, and when you know, get back to me on that. In the meantime, deal with your own problems. Like the fact that Julie's home alone so you can satisfy your damn curiosity." He paused, for full effect. "Or maybe she's not home alone. But that's the question isn't it? You wouldn't know." Angrily, he grabbed his cane and stalked off down the hall, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

HHHHHHHHH

"House?" Wilson knocked lightly on the door, waited, then tried again. "House, come on." Silence. "Look, I'll leave you alone, alright? It's…up to you. I just thought we should talk about it."

"You just wanted to talk about." His voice was pretty muffled through the door. He was probably sitting on the bed.

"And you don't."

"No."

Wilson sighed, rested his head against the door in defeat. He was pretty certain the English language didn't have words for how frustrating this man was. "Alright. It's just… I'm you friend. I thought maybe…"

"How many times have you known me to want to talk about something?"

"Ah… Occasionally. Rarely."

"And then we talk. Or, rather, I talk to you and you shut up and listen." He had a point. With House, nothing was easy. He should have considered himself lucky that House had told him about Chase at all. He was losing sight, getting greedy. Treating House like a normal person. Ha.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"I was just…" _Worried about you._ "I was here you know. Before." _After Stacy._

"Yeah ,well I'm a big boy. I can make decisions for myself."

_And I can clean up the aftermath._ "Right. Well…goodnight, House." He was startled, falling forward and almost into House when he wrenched the door open.

"You're not going anywhere. Said you'd watch The OC with me. Now go sit down, and shut up."

"We're ok?"

"Psh." House rolled his eyes. "If I stayed pissed at you every time you did something stupid, we'd never talk."

"Yeah. Forgot how insanely hard I am to deal with."

"Damn straight."

HHHHHHHHH

Wilson had left around 11:30. House knew he'd be sleeping on the couch at home, and any other night he'd have told him he didn't have to switch couches, but tonight he didn't really want Wilson crashing there. He wanted some time to think. He wished he could have seen what Wilson saw, Chase after he had kissed him… Should have been interesting.

He tossed back a Vicodin, picked up his cane and twirled it absently in one hand. He hadn't really thought out what he was going to do from here. Kissing him had just seemed like a good idea at the time. Just to see what happened. He closed his eyes, mind drifting back over the experience. Chase had looked so nervous. He had felt nervous. But also…

He hadn't kissed anyone sober since Stacy. There had been a handful of women from bars, quick one night stands with which he never actually spent the night. Well, once. But that was because he was too drunk to leave. He hadn't realized exactly how much he had missed it, the intimacy of it. Chase tasted good. He hadn't wanted to stop.

That, he knew, had to mean something. But it didn't mean he wanted or needed a relationship, and that was the problem. He wasn't good at relationships. He was too difficult, to complicated. He either ran people off real quick or screwed things up later on. Then _he_ got hurt. Once was enough for that.

He stood up and made his way to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of scotch and a glass and brought it to the piano bench. He downed half a glass, let his fingers fall to the keys. He played effortlessly, mind away from the music, playing whatever came to him. At the moment, Beethoven.

A relationship would mean someone else getting in his personal life. Even a casual relationship required that, to a certain extent. Trust. He certainly had none of that. He increased the tempo of the music, switching to a bolder piece. He hated personal decisions. There never seemed to be a right answer. He liked things clear cut. Either his diagnoses was right or it wasn't. This wasn't like that.

Two hours later, he went to bed, Chase still on his mind and the keys still felt on his fingertips. He had no answers.

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Hmmm…more of a thoughtful chapter than anything else. Sorry if it wasn't quite as interesting. Next one'll be interesting, I promise.

I had to decide between writing and reading my anatomy book….this won out over the nervous system. lol


	6. Control

Hmm…this part's been a bit harder to write. Vogler and all that. Ah well. Interesting.

Love you guys, and your amazing reviews.

Still don't own House. Damn.

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_(Control)_

"Thought I told you to go put her on blood thinners and do an angiogram." House doesn't look up, keeps looking at the paper on his desk.

"You did. And I did. The blood thinners. I'm doing the angio in a just a minute, nurse is prepping her for it. "

"Why aren't you?"

"Can we talk?" Chase says it softly, uncertain of where he even got the courage to ask.

"About what? I told you the angio'd probably come back negative and to move on to her spine, then biopsy the leg. After all that, we can talk again."

"I didn't mean about that case."

"I know you didn't." House turns the page on the paper, still not looking up.

"And?"

"Go do your job."

HHHHHHHHH

He can't believe it. Even for House, this seems crazy. Chase pulls the door open hard, grumbling under his breath. _He can't think this is normal… To just __do__ something like and never mention it again._

Taking a deep breath he pulls together his composure. He's a doctor. No personal problems. _Right.__ As if that ever works for anyone. Just saying it's alright._ He smiles for her, goes through the motions, takes her cell phone. His mind is elsewhere. _Not like it matters. An angiogram is routine, done it a million times. And there's virtually no chance it's a clot anyway._

"How old is she?" The radiologist. He looks at her. She's not half bad. Cute.

"32."

"Wow. She's already the CEO of a public company."

"She's a workaholic." No personal life. Maybe it's better that way. Avoids all the messy, emotional complications. "Ok, Carly, hold still. The x-ray machine is gonna pass over your leg."

"What'd you do with your time off?"

"Snowboarding in Stadt." _Trying to keep my mind off my damn boss.__ Or figure him out._

"Switzerland!"

"Do you ski or board? You can come with if you like." A distraction would be just the thing. And this is easy, so easy. Non-attached, non-committed… Just a beautiful woman with a similar interest. Life would be so much easier if that was all he wanted.

"Maybe we should start with a drink before we go 'round the world."

"Oh, you wanna have a drink with me?" Might as well try. She hits him for it, but it's playful and cute. Yes, she's alright. He could date her. "Oh, aggressive. I like that."

She smiles at that and he knows he has her in the palm of his hand. If only he wanted her. That thought sobers him up a bit but he grins back. She doesn't have to know.

HHHHHHHHH

_Two days later_

Hindsight is always, always 20/20. He knew he hadn't been paying attention during the angiogram. He just hadn't realized he was _that_ blatantly not paying attention. He feels guilty, so guilty. Initially, his anger had told him it was House's fault but there was no way that was true. A person's thoughts are always under their own control. He should have focused. No matter what House had done.

And House… He had every right to be mad. Chase couldn't blame him for that at all, but all the same he wished he wasn't. His nerves were on edge, his brain in hyperdrive. House seemed really pissed. Combine that with the fact that they hadn't talked… Maybe House had just been messing with him. Maybe he just wanted to chase him away, be rid of him. It hadn't felt that way at the time but… He didn't know what it had meant. He certainly couldn't ask now.

No matter what, he didn't want to get fired. He had a good job at Princeton-Plainsborough. His dad would never let him hear the end of it if he got fired. He would never _let_ himself hear the end of it. And besides that…. He wasn't ready to go. If House was getting ready to fire him... Maybe he could go over House's head. Ensure that he had approval elsewhere. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, really, but talking to House about it was out of the question. Might as well go with self preservation.

HHHHHHHHH

He had felt dirty, when he did it. Took the bottle of ipecac to Vogler. He had handed it over hesitantly, fingers lingering on the label though he knew it was too late to take it back. He had crossed over. He had become a traitor. The stereotypical traitor that everyone always hated in the stories. Traitor. Some would say just a euphemism for 'coward'. He knew it was just making excuses, but he didn't feel like it was quite the same. Maybe it wasn't, but maybe it was worse. He felt sick, and every time he looked at House he wondered how long it'd be till he found out.

If this went on much longer he might feel like he deserved to be fired.

HHHHHHHHH

"Chase is ratting me out to Vogler."

Wilson blinked at his coffee, brow furrowed. "…What?"

House crossed window and looked out, tapping his cane on the glass.

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty darn."

"But why?"

"If I knew that, would I be telling you?"

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"Yeah. Again, that's why I'm talking to you."

Wilson pushed his chair back, almost against the bookshelf behind him. "I don't know what to tell you. That's so shocking. I would have never expected _Chase_… Maybe Foreman…. I mean, especially after… House." He didn't turn. "House. You still haven't talked to him about what happened, have you?"

"Wasn't sure what to say."

"I think you should have come up with something."

"Thanks. Big help. Excpet for the 'should have' part. That kind of negates the helpfulness of it, since I don't have the power to go back in time."

"House, what else is there?"

"I've yelled at him before."

It came out of the blue. Wilson's eyebrows rose. Of course there was something else, but House had to talk about it in his roundabout way. He had to be House. Wilson rubbed his eyes wearily. "More than normal this time?"

"He screwed up. Angioed the wrong leg on a patient cause he was flirting with a radiologist."

"Ah." He had to handle this delicately. "Were you pissed about him doing the wrong leg, or were you more pissed about the flirting with the radiologist thing?"

He slammed his cane harder against the glass. "I'm her doctor, what the hell do you think I was pissed about?"

"Both." He said it quietly, but with enough force because he knew it had to be said. "And I think Chase didn't know any of that."

"He screwed up. Everyone does."

"Sometimes people need to hear that, House. Sometimes you have to let them know it's alright."

"It wasn't. You know I don't go in for that crap."

Wilson pulled his next file from the pile beside his computer. This was going in circles and he was getting tired of it. "Fine. Don't tell him it was alright. Tell him he screwed up, but that you forgive him. And tell him you like him before you lose your chance to."

"I never said I liked him!"

"No. That's why you're yelling." House turned on him, opened his mouth to snap off a retort but Wilson stopped him with a raised hand. "Talk to Chase."

"Too late."

"Have it your way. But you have to leave me alone, I have work to do." House looked away, frustrated, kept his eyes on the floor on the way to the door. "House, it's never too late."

"I might have believed you on that two ex-wives ago."

HHHHHHHHH

_(Mob Rules)_

_I didn't do it._

_You can trust me._

Simple statements, though important in their own way. Made even more so by the fact that they were lies. Chase was lying to him, blatantly. He should have known better than that. Should have known that House would have figured it out. He also should have known that House had no intention of firing him. At least not initially. Now, the idea was sounding more and more attractive. The thought of having to fire someone was distasteful in itself, but especially for him. It would mean changing his team, just when he had gotten used to how they worked together.

And Chase… He hadn't even finished deciding it might be worth a try and now he had betrayed him. Life sucked. _Everybody lies, you knew that already._

Fire Chase, and maybe life could go back to normal. Nothing was ever the 'only' choice, but in this case it could be the best one. Even if it wasn't the easiest.

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::sigh:: I hate this period in time. All the Chase betraying House-ness. But it is/was interesting.

Finished this sooner than expected cause I had more time than I thought…might try to get another one up tonight. Maybe, maybe, maybe….

Reviews are like cookies. (and House loves metaphors…lol)


	7. Heavy

Hmmm... The end of the Vogler age is in sight. YAY! lol

I don't own House. I am, however, dying of excitement about tomorrow's premiere. WOOHOO::cough cough:: Anyway…

I am definitely writing this during class. Bad, bad Jennifer…

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_(Heavy)_

So. Vogler was talking to Cameron and Foreman. He might not even protect him after all. It was funny in a way. He could have done it all for nothing. In that case, he really would deserve what he got. It didn't really matter anymore anyway. He and House weren't even talking. That was what all of this mess had gotten him, an even farther rift between them. Sometimes he called it his fault, sometime's House's. The reality probably fell somewhere in-between, as things most often did. He toyed with the idea of telling Vogler he was done.

If he had thought House might have cared, he would have. At this point though he wasn't sure even an apology would cut it, and they hadn't even talked about anything. Since Chase had told House he could trust him, they hadn't even discussed it all. He wasn't an idiot, he knew that House knew. He knew it every time he looked at him-or, rather, every time he didn't. House never met his eyes anymore.

HHHHHHHHH

"Jessica's stable." Predictably, House didn't look up. He didn't even respond. His eyes were glued to his Nintendo. "House…"

"What? I can trust you? So I've heard."

Defeated, his resolve shot, Chase left the office without another word.

HHHHHHHHH

Considering the amount of nerve it had taken to work himself up to it, the betrayal came surprisingly easy when he spoke. Probably because he knew he had already been betrayed. What he hadn't expected was for it not to work.

_Chase._

_No._

What the hell? He had made this decision, a hard one, and now… It didn't even matter. He was stuck with Chase, stuck with all of it. He wouldn't choose between Cameron and Foreman, he could put his foot down on that at least. He had followed orders, made his decision. It wasn't his fault Chase was an ass kisser and Vogler was a lying son of a bitch. He had kept the deal.

Somehow, he knew Vogler wouldn't see it that way.

HHHHHHHHH

_(Role Model)_

_So how can I work with you?_

_Well, you don't have a choice._

It was the truth, but it shouldn't have been. This wasn't what he wanted. When he went to Vogler he had only wanted his job, not to torment House. Well, maybe that wasn't entirely true. He knew there had to be some small part of him he would have never dared acknowledge in words that was looking for payback. But he hadn't wanted it like this. Things were out of hand, they were both miserable. For all he knew, House hated him.

_He has every right._

He knew what he had to do, but even knowing didn't make it easy. His hand hovered over Vogler's door a full three minutes before he knocked. When he did, it was soft and uneasy. The darker side of him was hoping Vogler wouldn't be in.

"Come in." He slid in silently, eyes downcast. "Ah, Dr.Chase. Good to see you. What do you have to tell me today?"

"I quit."

A moment of startled silence. "What?"

"Not my job, just… This. I'm not your informant anymore. I work for House."

"And House works for me."

Chase tipped his chin up, proud in that moment of the fact that his boss was a stubborn ass. "But that doesn't mean he answers to you. Not all the time. And I don't either. Not anymore."

"He wanted to fire you, you know." A nasty shot, and he waited until Chase had his hand on the door to give it. "You're the one he chose."

It hurt, but Chase hardly missed a beat. "I deserve it. He knows."

HHHHHHHHH

_The day following House's drug speech_

He waited until Foreman had left, gathered his nerve, and vowed he wouldn't let this drop.

House sat in his computer chair, back to him, playing with a rubber band and looking into the dark. "House…we need to talk."

"Don't you ever get tired of me saying no to that? I'm running out of creative ways to do it. There's nothing to talk about."

"_Yes_, there is. We have to talk."

House shrugged. "Fine. Say what you want, then leave."

"We both know I lied. I ratted you out to Vogler. I was confused, I thought you were gonna fire me… It all seems stupid now but I can't do anything about it except not do it anymore. And I told him that today, and he told me…" Chase swallowed hard. This part still hurt. "He told me you wanted to get rid of me. I just wanted you to know, I didn't mean it when I said you had no choice. I was angry. I don't want you to have no choice. If you want me gone, if you just can't trust me and would be happier with me gone, then I'll resign. It's up to you."

For a long while, House didn't answer, didn't even move and Chase almost gave up and left. Almost. Finally, "Why did you think I was going to fire you?"

"I screwed up."

"Everyone screws up. I say that at least 10 times a day, give me a break. You're not that sensitive. Scratch that, whether you are or aren't you shouldn't be that sensitive."

"And…" This was hard. "Because of what happened. On the roof. I thought you might… Want me gone." He tensed, biting his lower lip hard between his teeth. Neither of them had spoken of it with so much as a word, an acknowledgement. He had no idea what to expect. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, surprised when he felt the rubber band hit him between the eyes.

"You idiot."

Chase blinked. "Huh?"

"I kiss you, so your natural thought process is that I must want you to get the hell out? What, did the nuns teach you that a kiss was secretly the curse of the devil or something?"

His mind was swimming, no, drowning. He clutched at coherent thought. "No, I…I thought you were just screwing with me."

"Yeah, that's what I had been doing up until that point."

"Wait… You like me?"

House stood, paced between the bookshelf and the end of the desk a couple of times. Chase was calmed, a little, by the rhythm his cane made on the floor. Not hardly as fast as his pulse. "I… Don't know." He stopped in front of Chase, blue eyes all seriousness. "Maybe."

Taking a chance, Chase reached hesitantly up to lay a hand against his cheek. "I'm sorry. For betraying you."

"I can't forgive you." The bluntness of it hit him like a heavy weight, crushing his heart. Well, he hadn't expected him to say he liked him. He wasn't sure if this made it worse or better… He could have had the chance at everything, and he had thrown it away to protect his damn job. "Yet."

He looked back up at House, almost daring to hope. "Yet?"

A short, stiff nod, then House pulled him forward into his arms and a warm, passionate kiss. He was taken in by the force of it, the feel of House's tongue against his own, that taste that he had tasted in his sleep, strong enough to be a drug. He attempted to pull away long enough to draw breath, only to have House reclaim his lips forcefully, right hand tangling almost painfully in his hair, arm tightening around him to pull his body closer. He was lost in the pleasure of it, the way their tongues danced. It was perfect. He moaned softly, his hand sliding around behind House's neck to anchor himself to him, his other hand falling to House's chest.

It was all too good to be true. He was making out with House in his office… The office. The _glass_ office. He pushed House away, his heart leaping at the disgruntled look the diagnostician gave him. "We… Shouldn't be doing this here."

"Some would say we shouldn't be doing it at all." House moved in close again, caught Chase's lower lip in his own and sucked lightly on it. Chase pushed him back again.

"Yes, well, I didn't say that. Just not here."

House sighed, rolling his eyes in frustration and mock anger. "Fine." He swiped his cane up from beside his desk and limped over to his desk to retrieve his keys. "So. Ah… You want a drink? Pizza?"

Slowly, a smile crept across Chase's face. He tried very hard to keep it from becoming a stupid grin. "Sure."

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Something in me loves 'cute' Chase. BUT….I love disgruntled House even more(my dad is disturbed by this….LOL).

Hope you guys enjoyed…I loved bringing them back together.


	8. Twilight Zone

Hey, everyone!

Shadows, don't worry. It's far from over; I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that I hated the whole betrayal/separation thing…I love to write drama but I feel bad hurting my characters. lol (I'm glad you love it, and thank you so much for being such a loyal reader/reviewer. )

Luigi, it'll keep going. Dad is just disturbed by the fact that I even like House at all(since House isn't exactly the "good guy")and if he ever saw THIS… Well, I don't think disowning me would be too strong of a phrase. For my whole family. They hate fanfiction as a rule, and they're definitely not real open minded… If he read this, he'd say I was going to hell. lol That's why collage library computers and getting my own laptopamazing.

Don't own House. Yup.

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"Menus are in the drawer. Pick out something that isn't disgusting. Phone's on the table. I'll be back."

Chase nodded, stepping hesitantly into House's apartment. His eyes were darting everywhere, taking in everything. House's apartment. It was pretty clean, for a bachelor. Lots of books. A beautiful piano. He wanted to hear House play it. He had seen him trace his fingers over the edge of the desk, play an imaginary piano while listening to his music but he had never actually heard him play. He was probably amazing. He certainly had the hands for it. That thought was a bit distracting, so he shook his head moved around the couch, pulling the drawer open to search for a pizza menu.

The whole drawer was full of menus. Chinese, Thai, Japanese… Everything imaginable that would deliver, and a few he would have never thought of. He was still searching when he heard the sound of cane on wood not far behind him. "Do you ever cook?"

"Not if I can help it. Sometimes, though, I just can't stand it and I make a bowl of cereal. Or warm up a can of Chef Boyardee."

"That's not cooking."

"Yet it's still more than I'm usually willing to do." He came up behind Chase close, standing over him. "You find anything yet?"

"Ah…" Chase pulled out the next pizza menu and handed it over his shoulder. "I'm not all that picky. Get what you want. No mushrooms, though."

He turned to face House just in time to see his eyes widen enough to give a great sad puppy look. "But what if I love mushrooms?"

"…Do you?"

"You are such a loser."

Chase sighed and shook his head, moving over to give House access to the phone and sitting down on the couch. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. House ordered two sausage pizzas. He didn't open his eyes until he heard the TV cut on and felt House's weight beside him. "if you want a beer, I've got some in the fridge."

"Do you want a beer?"

"What do you think?"

"Be right back." Chase went to the kitchen and returned with two cold beers, along with a renewed amazement at House's diet. "There was nothing else in there."

House took his beer from Chase and popped the top. "Sure there was."

"Yeah. Orange juice and a container of white frosting with M&M's. Why do you even have that?"

House shrugged. "Did you _try_ any before passing judgment? It tastes good."

"It's supposed to go on cakes."

"I can't cook something that complicated."

"You must get lost somewhere between pouring the mix and breaking the eggs…"

House shot him a glare that he was glad he could tell wasn't serious. "Be quiet. Cooking's for sissy's."

"Wilson's a great cook."

"Did I ever say he wasn't a sissy?"

HHHHHHHHH

Pizza, an indeterminate amount of beers, and three hours of Twilight Zone later, Chase was just drunk enough to let his head fall to House's shoulder. He wouldn't have done it normally, and he realized that even through the haze in his brain when he felt House tense. He went to shift clumsily but before he could actually execute the act, House had stopped him with a firm grip on his chin. "You're drunk."

He could feel his breath against his lips. It made him lightheaded. He nodded, slowly. "Uh-huh."

"Since I brought you here, and you couldn't drive anyway, you'll have to stay here tonight."

His head felt so fuzzy. "Alright."

Then, House's lips were on his again and he didn't have to try to think anymore. He melted against the other man, one hand exploring his chest while the other buried in his hair. He shifted closer and closer to him until and insistent buzzing in his brain finally formed coherent thought. House's leg. He had to be careful about House's leg. He was on his left side…so long as he didn't put too much weight on him, it should be fine.

Just then, House thrust his tongue into his mouth and slipped one hand under his shirt, drawing the expected moan and lack of ability to string two words together even in his own mind. He did know, however, that he wanted to hear House make a noise like that. His finger fumbled with the buttons on House's shirt, a task made doubly difficult in his current state. He could feel House grin against his lips at Chase's foiled attempts. Until he achieved his goal, reaching in to toy experimentally with his nipple. House groaned, bit down on Chase's lower lip. Success.

He pulled his lips away from House's warm mouth, trialed a line of kisses down his jawline and to his neck. He could feel his pulse, strong and fast, and he sucked lightly at the skin over it, reveling in the way house clutched at him when he did. A few more wet, open-mouthed kisses, then he tucked his head into the crook of House's neck, snuggling in close. He was too out of it to realize this was cuddling, and with House cuddling might be against the rules. Hesitantly, House shifted his hold and his position on the couch, letting Chase rest easily in his embrace.

He fell asleep, waking only when House shook him and ordered that he get up and move, because his leg couldn't handle a night on the couch.

He didn't have to go far. The bedroom was down the hall. Sleepy and clumsy he stripped down to his undershirt and boxers before crawling under the covers.

When the light was out, House waited a few minutes before pulling him into a half embrace, Chase's head pillowed on his shoulder. He said something along the lines of not getting used to that, but Chase was already falling asleep.

HHHHHHHHH

He woke warm. Much warmer than he remembered his bed being. He moved to stretch, only to find his movement restricted by a body next to him. And his head was pounding. Wincing, he slid his eyes open, falling naturally to the sleeping form next to him. House. _House.__ Oh, God._ His mind raced over the events of the night before, calming somewhat when he realized that he had been brought here by House(sober, no less), and that they hadn't had sex. Nothing to worry about then, really.

Except for the fact that it was almost time for work and he had no clothes, save the ones he had had on yesterday. He also needed a shower. He rolled away from House and onto his back, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to stave off his headache.

"You're funny when you're drunk. Not to mention sleepy." House's voice was rough and scratchy, adorably sleepy in a way that made Chase want to roll back over and settle against his chest.

"Am I? Well that's nice but…I have no clothes."

"Sure you do. I know you wore something here."

"I can't go in wearing that, everyone'll know…"

"What, exactly?" House rolled over, resting on his left elbow to face Chase. "That you didn't go home? That could have been any reason. You think their minds are gonna magically jump to you spending the night here?"

"If we arrive together, yeah."

House rolled his eyes. "Oh relax. They won't see us till we get up to the office…I'll drop you off at the locker room first. It isn't like you don't need a shower. I'd have let you take one here, but since you're so hung up on appearances…"

"Just… Just for now." Chase drew his hand down from his face, let his head fall to the side to study House. "House…" He waited for House to look at him, but the other man must have sensed the serious tone of the statement because he didn't look up. "What is this?"

"I have no idea. Get up, get breakfast, I'm going to take a shower." He rolled to the side of the bed, wincing as his leg hit the floor. Wordlessly, Chase watched him toss back two Vicodin, watched him rub his leg for five minutes before he was able to even step onto the floor. He wanted to push the issue of exactly what was going on, a relationship or… Something. Now, though, he knew it wasn't the time. Later. When both of them were up for serious conversation. That was daunting in itself. When was House ever up for serious conversation? With a sigh Chase hauled himself out of bed and began pulling on his clothes. He was ready for a bagel and some ridiculously strong coffee but he couldn't have either of those until he got into work.

Seemed like today was going to be one of those days. Not that it mattered, really. He had spent the night beside House, woken up against him. Something he had dreamed of. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The annoyances were minor. The potential good in this far, far outweighed the bad. Maybe he could even get House to talk to him. If he got bored enough, and they didn't have a patient. Maybe.

Hungry, Chase settled for orange juice and a spoonful of frosting. Strange combination for sure, and it was certainly no coffee and bagel but… Sometimes, you had to take what you could get.

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Sorry this update took so long, real life has been crazy lately…three huge tests at school, then I had to go house sit with a friend, and tomorrow I'm leaving to go up to the mountains with some friends(girl time. Woohoo!). So, I'm sorry, but this is the only chapter I'll be able to get up this weekend.

Unless I pull of some miracle on Sunday. If I do, it'll be late because as soon as I get home I'm going across town to watch Moulin Rouge with a friend.

Anyway…I love the reviews. They're like…really good drugs. (Which reminds me…Stacy is coming up. Usually, that's my ship, but not in this case, don't worry. It will, though, make things…interesting for poor Chase. Hmmm…)


	9. Babies and Bathwater

So last night…Chase coming in to give House the diagnoses was pretty much amazing. That, for me, was the most emotional moment of the show. House looked so sad, like he really missed him….sigh

Anyway, on with the show.

I don't own House. Nope.

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_(Babies and Bathwater)_

"House?"

"Where's Foreman?" His back was to Chase, halfheartedly bouncing the tennis ball on the floor.

"Doing the x-ray. Why did Cameron quit?"

"Thought you might be here to see me." His voice was mock hurt, but Chase knew there might but just a bit of truth to it. He couldn't be sure, but he'd err on the side of caution. That was the last thing he wanted, to push House away now. He stepped closer, one hand sliding over House's shoulder.

"I _am_ here to see you. But Foreman keeps going on to be about why I'm not jumping all over your ass about Cameron. It'd be nice to have something to tell him. And I'm curious too." House didn't respond immediately, though he sighed when Chase stepped up against the back of the chair and ran his fingers through his hair. "If it's her business I'd understand but you've never been one for caring if something was personal and besides…Foreman's convinced she got fired because of you."

"She didn't get fired." He tilted his eyes back, eyes closed. He didn't flinch away when Chase trailed a hand across his cheek. "She's in love with me." Chase froze.

"She's… What?"

"In love with me. And she's quitting because I'm not in love with her, and she can't handle her feelings for me. Something along those lines."

"Because you don't love her?"

House's eyes cracked open. "NO. Did you really think I did?"

"Ah…"

"Don't answer that. I'm not in love with her, but it doesn't have anything to do with her abilities as a doctor. She's being an idiot." Annoyed, he bounced the ball high enough that Chase caught it in his right hand. He dropped it, let it fall to the desk behind him and roll to rest against the computer.

"Well… Are you going to try to get her back?" He couldn't help but be a little nervous when he said it, though he hoped to God it didn't sound that way. It was just… Cameron was so beautiful. A beautiful woman in love with him might be enough to change his mind. It could be enough to change any man's mind.

"If she'll come back."

Chase nodded, made some small noise of assent. His head was already filled with scenarios.

"I won't sleep with her, if that's what you're wondering."

"No, I know that." He wasn't entirely sure if he kept from his voice or posture the warmth that had swept through him at those words. Judging by the twitch of House's lips into an almost sarcastic grin, probably not. Chase glanced at the door. The blinds were pulled but it was unlocked. So long as no one came in…. He leaned over, brushing his lips against House's until he responded. Kissing him like this was different, upside down, open mouthed and a little lazy. It was nice, its own particular buzz… Until House pulled away.

"And you said we shouldn't do this here."

"Blinds are closed."

"Door's unlocked."

"Nobody's coming." Chase leaned over for another kiss, smiling when House tilted his head up to meet him.

"Hey, House, I brought lunch and-" Wilson. Damn. Chase pulled back and straightened up faster than he would have believed possible, though he knew that made it look even more suspicious. _Yeah, Chase, as if it wasn't already obvious what you were doing._ "I…I'm sorry I…" Wilson stammered, so clearly startled that it would have been funny if Chase's heart wasn't beating out of his chest.

To House, apparently, it was funny. He was grinning. He swung his chair around, eyes trapping Wilson's. "Haven't I told you not to interrupt me when I'm in the middle of something important? Or, rather, when I'm going to be _doing_ something important. Someone, actually, I guess you'd say."

Chase was turning steadily more red, eyes boring into the carpet. This was so embarrassing…

"Right. Sorry. I'll leave your lunch on your desk. You can… Whatever. Talk to me later if you want." He left very, very quickly. Chase wasn't really startled by House's laughter.

"_That_ was priceless. When we have sex in here, he definitely needs to walk in on us."

"Ah…who said…"

"Shut up and play along. And go get you some lunch."

"Foreman might-"

"Foreman's a big boy." House shoved a ten dollar bill in Chase's direction. "Do what you're told. And bring me some candy, Wilson never does."

HHHHHHHHH

They were down to the last of the champagne. Everyone else had filtered out, including Wilson. He, after all, did still have a wife to go home to. Chase finished pouring the last drop into House's glass and picked up his own, staring at the rim, contemplative.

"Uh-oh. I know that face. Serious conversation."

"Isn't a little weird that we're celebrating tonight but… Our patient died."

"One of our patients lived. Just… The littler one."

Chase made a vague, low noise, raised the glass to his lips and downed half of it.

"Hey." He looked up, fell into House's eyes. "I don't really like repeating myself, but we all did the best we could. Nothing more could have been done for her. By anyone. She just died. Sometimes people just die. It sucks. It sucks for her child. But at least he lived. And that's one thing we did right. If we had made the wrong call, they'd both be dead."

Chase finished off the glass. "Guess it was her time."

"However you want to phrase it. I don't believe in that crap."

"You really don't believe in God?"

"And you really do?"

Bits and pieces of Chase's life ran through his mind. More than enough bad but… There had been good things too. Little things, mostly, but he had always felt that God was with him. Even if he wasn't yet ready to make any big changes in Chase's life. And now he had met House… "Yeah. Yeah, I believe in God."

House shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Well, neither do you half the time but we still do what you say."

"I'm brilliant."

"That would sound much better coming from someone other than you. You're biased."

"_You're_ biased." Something in his eyes darkened then, warm and seductive. Chase shivered. "So. What would you say I am? Hmm?"

"You're…" _At the moment, sexy._ "You're House. You're unique."

"That doesn't sound bad. Or is it?"

"No. It's not." Chase stood slowly. "We should be going, though. It's late." He made it over to his bag before he felt House's arms around his waist.

"You've been drinking." He whispered against Chase's ear, his breath against it stirring Chase's blood.

"I'm not drunk."

"But you've been drinking. If you got pulled over…"

"What do you want me to do, ride home with you? I could use the same logic on you." House stiffened a little and Chase grabbed his arms before he could pull away. He hadn't meant to snap, really. He had nothing against going home with House. He was, however, tired. Not to mention still unsure about what exactly their relationship was. He turned a little in House's arms, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. "Seriously. What do you want?"

"Could stay here for awhile longer."

"Here."

"Uh-huh." House nuzzled against him, stubble scratchy against his skin. Chase loved the feel of it, so perfectly… House. He knew, though, that he hadn't expected this. Maybe House got clingy when he had been drinking. Maybe he was trying to get Chase not to ask him about their relationship. Maybe he wanted sex. Maybe House just _was_ clingy in relationships. He really had no idea; this was all new territory. Chase sighed.

"Where, here, exactly do you want to go?"

"Wilson keeps food in the oncology break room. And there's a sofa and a TV."

"Just awhile. Then I have to go home, you know… Sleep."

"Overrated."

"_House_."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sleep, whatever." House kissed his neck, nipped lighly at it before pulling away. "C'mon."

HHHHHHHHH

Somehow, the "waiting" had turned into two peanut butter sandwiches for House(as if he ever shared anything)and, currently, making out on the couch. The TV was on mute, on the news, but neither of them had paid it even five minutes attention after they sat down. They were lucky so far that no one had come in. Not that they were thinking.

Chase was hard at work on House's collarbone when he felt a hand against his belt, but before he had to time to fully register it House had reached past the waistband of his boxers. He moaned, bit down hard on House's shoulder in pleasure. House shoved him back, his head hitting the arm rest. He was fully underneath him now, though he was aware of little except House's hand and the steady rhythm he was taking up, the feel of those amazing lips against his neck… He let his head fall back farther, giving better access, one hand had a death grip on the cushion below him, the other hand was digging slightly into House's back.

The tempo changed, faster and a little rougher and Chase cried out, silenced quickly by a deep kiss. All the same, it felt too good to focus on a thing like silence and when House's lips left his he couldn't keep quiet. "House…"

That, apparently, did something. The warm hand left him, wrapped instead around his waist, bodies moving roughly together until they both shuddered and were still. Coming down from the high, he could feel House's breath against his skin. He realized, at that moment, just how much he loved that feeling. Blinking, he ran a hand through House's hair, drawing his gaze. The older man shifted his head, blue eyes drunk with pleasure. He had never looked more gorgeous, or more irresistible. "House…" He caressed his cheek, unsure of what else to say.

"Hm. That was good."

Chase smiled, softly. "Yeah. Very, very good."

House buried his face in his chest, burrowing until he felt comfortable enough to sigh and close his eyes.

"We should-"

"Shh. You should be tired. I know I'm tired. Then again, I am twice your age."

Chase leaned forward, leaving a soft kiss on his forehead. "That doesn't mean anything." Chase still didn't know how seriously House was going to take this, but at the moment it didn't matter. He had dreamed of what it would feel like to have House touch him and now… Nothing he had ever imagined had compared to the sheer pleasure of the actual experience. Amazing. Tired and perfectly happy, he soon drifted off to sleep.

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I could tell them that's NOT the best place to be sleeping… But where's the fun in that? lol

Ok…eventually, in a few chapters, I may decide to move this fic up to M. Not the story would ever be ABOUT the sex, just that it would INCLUDE sex. Difference. I don't want to lose any readers though, especially as you guys are all so amazingly loyal so….I hope I wouldn't lose anyone there. For anyone who wouldn't want to read that, the chapters would be well labeled. You could skip as you wished.


	10. Kids

Thanks everyone for the wonderful reviews!!

I SHOULD be paying attention to my history of rock class….but I'm pretty sure I know more than she's gonna test us on about Bob Dylan already.

I still don't own House. Imagine that.

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Unfortunately for both of them, they slept soundly. Until they were both startled awake. "Whoa! What the hell?!"

Both men jerked awake, though Chase's eyes were the first to fall to the door. "Foreman…" House knew Chase didn't have the faintest idea what to say. He looked as if all the blood had been drained from his face. House struggled to sit up, biting his tongue to counter the pain in his leg. He needed Vicodin. First, though, he probably needed to say something to his newly disturbed employee.

"Good morning, Foreman. Sleep well?"

Foreman just stared at him, clearly in shock.

"Oh come on, you've seen people sleeping before. I bet plenty of people have seen you sleeping before."

Foreman shook his head, somewhat dazed. "Yeah but not like….. You two are…. Seriously?"

"Ok…bad grammar, and that made no sense. And our business, is none of yours."

Foreman turned halfway away, leaning against the doorframe with one hand. "Does… Does Cuddy know about this?"

"No. And she's not going to either. Right?"

Foreman hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. I don't care. What the hell am I saying, I guess I care. This is so…"

"Weird. Strange. Mind boggling. I get it. You're upset. I don't care." House relaxed back against the cushion, rubbing his thigh and grimacing. He had left his Vicodin in his jacket. Jacket was in the office. Damn. "What the hell did you want anyway?"

"Came in early to check on the patient's son. Just wanted to let you know that everything's fine."

"Not my patient anymore."

"Right." Foreman still wasn't making a move to go anywhere, was standing wide eyed as if the image of them sleeping on the couch was burned into his mind.

"Go do my clinic hours."

"Because I walked in on you?"

"Because I said so." When Foreman gave him a dirty look he smiled, glad that Foreman didn't know him well enough to see how pained it was. As soon as he was gone, he turned to Chase. "I need my pills. Now."

Chase swallowed hard, obviously still on edge from what had just happened.

"Now would mean NOW, not in 20 minutes."

"Sorry." He mumbled it softly and he didn't look at House when he left. House felt a moment of the tiniest regret for snapping, but it didn't last. If he wanted a relationship with House, best get him used to what he'd really be dealing with now. _The sooner he gives up, the less I'll miss him. _Everyone gave up sooner or later. Despite his fears and constant sarcasm, deep down he couldn't help but hope there'd be someone, other than Wilson, who wouldn't give up at all.

To Chase's credit, he was fast. He dropped the bottle down in House's hand, watching with barely veiled concern as he tossed back two pills. House sighed. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"I'm not… Dying. You don't have to look at me like that."

"You're in pain. It upsets me. Shouldn't it?"

House didn't know how to answer that. So he changed the subject. "What time is it?"

"5:30."

"Guess Foreman had some guilt issues."

"So did I."

"But you slept."

"I was with you." House looked up, the look on Chase's face betraying the fact that what had been said had slipped out against his better judgment. For once, maybe he wouldn't tease him about it. Not that he wanted Chase getting used to that.

"You might as well sit down. I'm not going anywhere until the Vicodin takes effect."

He leaned back, eyes closed. "Since my clinic hours are out of the way, think I'll head over to talk to Cameron."

"This early?"

He felt Chase sit down next to him. It was a pleasant surprise when he felt his hands on his leg, gently working the cramped muscle. "Later." He really was quite good at that. House groaned. "God, you're amazing at that. People would pay you."

"But you don't have to."

"And that's why I prefer you to a hooker." Chase's soft laugh made him smile. There was something about the sound that warmed him. Or maybe that was just the pills. He had taken two. Yeah, that was it. It had to be the pills.

HHHHHHHHH

_(Kids)_

"Is Cameron coming back?"

House dropped into his chair, twirled around and pulled up the Magic 8 Ball. "I don't know. Let's check. Hmmm…. It says…. Ask again tomorrow."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning not yet. But I'm working on it." He dropped the Magic 8 Ball and instead picked up a rubber band, which he promptly shot at the back of Chase's head. "What letter are you on?"

"O. Why are you doing this?"

"C'mon… You should know that. It's for show. Gotta pretend to punish you."

"Wilson and Foreman already know."

"But Cuddy doesn't. And she'll expect to hear about me treating you badly. If she hears anything else, she might come ask me about my feelings. And you know how I hate those conversations."

Chase rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. "Do I."

"Hey, hey, hey… Don't feel neglected. I told you you had a nice ass. Knowing you have a nice ass is a feeling."

"It's a thought. An opinion. But thanks. I guess."

House's phone vibrated and he pulled it up, scanning a text message from Wilson. "Wicked Witch of the Administration is coming. If I head out the other door, I might make it to the elevator before she catches me. Adios."

HHHHHHHHH

_The following evening_

House contemplated not answering the phone, but he grabbed it on the last ring. "Hello?" Not that he didn't know who it was.

"Hey. I was thinking, I could pick up dinner. Have something other than pizza for a change." Usually, he was glad to hear Chase's voice on the phone. Now… He had a vague sense of trepidation.

"If you want."

"You ok?"

"I'm fine."

"You want Japanese?"

"Whatever you want." He hung up before Chase could question that. No matter what they were eating, he knew this wasn't going to be a fun conversation.

HHHHHHHHH

He only had about a half hour to think about how to phrase it. Not that he spent it thinking. He was playing Bach when he heard the knock on the door. "It's open." He didn't look up, didn't acknowledge him in any other way, even though he knew he was smiling in his direction. He heard Chase walk over to the piano, felt him wrap his arms around him from behind.

"Hey."

He jerked his chin upward by a fraction. It was an acknowledgement, at least.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Chase pressed a soft kiss to the nape of his neck. "That's beautiful, you know." When House didn't respond, he tugged lightly on his shoulder. "Any way I can get you to come eat now and play for me later?"

"Maybe." His hands stopped on the keys, but he waited until Chase let go of him and headed to the kitchen for plates before he spoke. "Cameron's coming back to work."

"That's…Great! What did you offer her?"

Silence, except for the sound of cabinets opening in the kitchen.

"More money?"

Silence.

Chase paused, stuck his head out of the door frame. "C'mon, what is it? I'm fine with the money you pay me. I don't care what she's getting."

_Yeah, you will._ He took a deep breath. "No money. I'm taking her on a date."

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Ouch! Poor Chase…. Somehow, he's always the one that gets hurt. People should be nicer to wombats.

I'm going away for part of the weekend, but I'll try to get a chapter or two written. I'll see how it goes.


	11. About Cameron

Thank you so much to everyone for the amazing reviews. I knew Chase would get a lot of sympathy. (He's so cute….How could he not get sympathy? I wanted to hug him. lol)

Don't own House M.D. Of course.

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He wasn't sure what he expected Chase to say, but the silence before he spoke was definitely expected. "…Right." House winced internally. Chase said nothing else.

"Aren't you going to yell about it?"

Chase slammed a cabinet door with more force than was necessary. "No. It's fine. You can do whatever the hell you want."

The yelling might have almost been better than this. House swung around on the bench, pulled his cane to him and went to stand in the doorway. "Chase…I want Cameron to come back to work."

"Course."

"This was the only thing she would take. I offered her money, I offered her time off, I offered her anything else but this."

"I believe you." But he still wouldn't look at him. He was standing at the counter, looking mostly into its surface.

"I had no choice."

That, at least, got his attention. He looked at House, his stare somewhere between self righteous and hurt. "There's always a choice. You could have said no."

"Yeah, and lost Cameron."

"She might have taken something else."

Frustrated with the whole situation and angry with himself for causing this(and more angry with himself for hurting Chase than he would admit), House slammed his hand down on the counter. "No, she wouldn't have! I tried that! And she's a good doctor. It's my decision. I don't want to hire anyone else."

Chase shrugged. "I said to begin with it was your decision, House."

"Oh please. Don't…. Don't do this." House took a step closer. "Don't act like it's ok when it isn't. That never helps anything."

"And you don't do that?"

"We're not talking about me. We're talking about Cameron."

"Fine." Chase glanced at him over his shoulder. "I don't like it."

House stepped up to him, let his hands fall somewhat hesitantly to his waist. "At least you admitted it." Chase was stiff in his arms, still pointedly not looking at him. "Chase…" This wasn't easy. "I'm not interested in her. I swear I'm not."

"She's beautiful."

"You're prettier than Cameron." Chase didn't laugh. _Crap._ "Are _you_ interested in her?"

"Of course not."

"So it's just that you don't trust me."

"House…" Chase pulled away from him, moving to the side to stand apart and look him in the eyes. "You haven't even said anything about what this is. I don't know if you consider this a serious relationship or one of your games and I haven't really cared because I was happy, but I can't… I can't just be here when you have nothing better to do."

"That isn't what this is about. I'm not going out with Cameron because I'm bored with you, I'm going out with Cameron because she demanded that as her price." He tapped his cane on the floor. "And I don't want… To go out with anyone else." He looked away uneasily, then back at Chase. "We are what we are. Just because I don't put a title on it doesn't mean I don't want to be with you." He could see Chase soften a little and he took that opportunity, stepping forward to take him in his arms. "I don't want anything from Cameron, and I'm not going to sleep with her. Honestly. If you don't trust me on that, then… Be here when I come home. Alright?"

"I can trust you" Chase relaxed, lay his head on House's shoulder. "Only because I know…it would mean something to you if I did. I'm not sure what it would change, but… It's all progress."

"Stop trying to figure me out. Wilson does that." But there was no bite in his voice and he nuzzled against Chase after he said it. "Be here when I get home. I want to see you."

"Alright."

They stood there for a moment in a comfortable embrace, still and silent. Predictably, House didn't let it last long. "Come on. I'm hungry." He left Chase to bring everything into the living room mostly be himself, though he did grab two forks on his way out the door.

HHHHHHHHH

It was a good two hours later before either of them spoke of it again, and it was House who brought it up. Out of nothing, of course. He was leaning against the arm of the sofa, Chase against his chest. Sportscenter was on. Not Chase's favorite, but he'd put up with whatever House wanted to watch. He was hovering somewhere between sleep and consciousness when House spoke.

"This isn't just a game."

Chase blinked, shifted a little to look up at him. "Ok."

"I mean it was, maybe, to begin with. But then it wasn't, and it definitely isn't now."

"…Ok."

House looked away uneasily. "Just thought I should say…. Ah, never mind."

"No." Chase touched his cheek, pulled him down for a kiss. " 'S good. Thanks."

House grunted dismissively and turned back to the TV. He shoved the remote at Chase. "After awhile, his voice grates on my nerves."

"I get to pick the channel?"

"Do you want me to take it back?"

Chase flipped through until he found one of the original Star Wars. "You can't complain about this."

"I could." Chase cut his eyes at him, surprised. "But I'd be lying."

"Not that that's a problem for you."

Silence, then… "Cameron doesn't even really like me. She just…. Thinks she does."

"How do you know?"

"Her husband. She married a man that was dying. That shows some deep issues about attraction to pain. She doesn't like me, she likes my problems. If anything, she's in love with my leg and my addiction."

Chase turned, raising up on one arm to rest more sideways against him. House was troubled, but about Cameron or about them he wasn't sure. Probably both. He wanted to continue the discussion but somehow he thought that would be pushing it. He kissed him softly, not really surprised that House didn't respond. "I see more than that."

"For now."

"House…."

"Shh." House pulled his head back to rest against his shoulder. "I can't hear the Jawas."

HHHHHHHHH

"You're staying here tonight." It wasn't really a question, more of a command, but it was one he knew Chase would have never refused. As it was, he thought he looked a little pleased. Pleased was good. Pleased meant he wasn't still pissed. Or, at least, was less pissed. _He was more hurt than he was pissed…_ The voice(maybe his conscience?)was annoying and he swatted it away.

All the same, he knew the truth in it. He was terrible with words when it came to expressing emotions. But actions…actions he could do. That was what had always pulled him through with Stacy, the ability to _show_ her he loved her or that he was sorry when he couldn't say it quite right. He just had to convince Chase he wasn't just playing with him. Shouldn't be so hard. Chase just finished stripping down to his t-shirt and boxers when House stopped him, turning him around and pulling him against his chest. "House, wha-" He cut him off, kissing Chase with a tenderness that he could tell surprised him. When he pulled back, Chase slipped his arms around him. "What was that for?"

"Do you want a specific, academic reason? I could come up with one. But that sounds like I'm talking to Cuddy and that's just…." He shook his head, nudged Chase back toward the bed.

He didn't ask any more questions. Instead, he fell back and pulled House with him, arms wrapped securely around him. House kissed him again, gentle, right hand sliding under his shirt to rub his bare skin. Chase gave a soft hum of pleasure, grip tightening on House's arms. House didn't increase the pace, however, but kept it slow, taking his time. When he paused, his lips still rested against Chase's. "You taste good. Good enough reason?"

Chase was smiling, slight, but enough to let him know that he had done the trick. One more kiss, then he rolled off of him to turn off the light. Chase nestled against him in the dark and he didn't pull away. Chase had learned soon enough that if he wanted close physical contact, he was better off seeking it in the dark.

House wasn't sure if he was annoyed with that or alright with it. He certainly wasn't at all easy with Chase knowing that he enjoyed that, craved it, that insomnia had been as much a part of him as the vicodin but that he slept better with Chase in his arms. Those were things he didn't need to know. Not that he could have said them anyway.

House's arm encircled his waist, pulling him as close as possible. Maybe he didn't have to say it. Maybe if he stuck around he'd learn to read things like this, like the fact that House even let him share his bed. Maybe he was already learning. He was still trying to decide whether he was comfortable with Chase learning anything about how to read him when he fell asleep.

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I always loved seeing, with Stacy, that in a relationship House could be tender. Wanted to show a little of that. Anyway….Stacy is definitely looming over the horizon now, so Chase shouldn't get too happy or comfortable. Poor guy.

This one took me a few days to write (really unusual. Usually, I write a chapter in about 2-3 hours if not less.), so I hope you guys like it.


	12. Love Hurts

Sorry it's taken so long to get this up. I had Fall Break at my college, and one of my best friends came home so I got together with my buddies and had a blast, but didn't get any writing done.

So…rating goes up here. The only section deserving of the rating is the last, and I REALLY don't want to run anyone off, so you can skim it if you want, or, if you want, just message me and ask me if there was anything important from the last bit. I'd be happy to tell you.

Still don't own House. And I am so pissed that it's not coming on tomorrow. Grr.

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_(Love Hurts)_

He had seen him talking to Cameron that morning, after he held her behind from the differential. Everything about that hurt, twisted his heart until he wanted to yell at someone. The patient or Foreman were the only two choices, and neither seemed very feasible. Foreman waited until they were testing blood in the lab before he spoke. "So…House and Cameron."

"There is no House and Cameron." It was short, clipped, and so obviously dripping with venom that he saw Foreman's pupils widen considerably.

"Right. But he is taking her on a date."

"I heard, same as you did."

"But did you hear _when _I did?"

"Look, this is personal, alright? Just run your damn test." Chase took a deep breath, steadying himself after the outburst. A moment later, he had recovered enough to continue. "No. I heard last night."

Foreman nodded. "So just the one date, sleep with her to get her to stay, then try to forget it ever happened? I think that's harsh, even for House. He should know Cameron better than that. She won't be able to take it."

"He's not going to sleep with her." Chase felt like his teeth were clamped so tightly they just might explode.

"You trust him with her." It wasn't even really a question, more of a _God, you're an idiot_ statement.

Chase slammed the lid of the centrifuge. "_Yes._"

HHHHHHHHH

"Hey."

House spun around in his chair, away from the game of Minesweeper he had been playing on the computer. "Tests done?"

Chase shook his head, dropping a Styrofoam plate down on the desk. "Brought you a ruben."

"Even better." House pulled the sandwich toward him, eagerly peeling off the plastic wrap. "If it has no pickles, you get an extra gold star."

"It _should _have no pickles. I asked about three times."

House pulled up the bread, examined it from every angle. "Amazing. No pickles. You rock."

Chase smiled. "You're welcome."

House mumbled something in return but it made no sense around the large mouthful of sandwich. Somehow, Chase doubted it mattered anyway. He stepped around the desk, leaning back against it and watching House eat.

"So do you, ah…. Wanna come over tonight? I'll make dinner."

House swallowed a lump of bread. "Make dinner as in, you'll order? Or make dinner as in-"

"I'll cook. Yeah."

House's eyebrows shot up. "Should I be afraid?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm gonna burn the place down."

"No, I mean should be afraid to eat it."

Chase glared at him. "It'll be nice." _I hope._

"Nothing too fancy like Wilson sometimes makes or I won't eat it."

"Yeah, I know." He stepped away from the desk. "You like spaghetti don't you?" House's eyes lit up. That was answer enough. "Good. " He toyed absently with the Magic 8 Ball. "You don't know where I live."

"I'll ride with you."

"Alright." Chase shook the ball once more. _Don't count on it._ He wasn't even sure what he had been asking. Eyes darting across the windows, he bent and pressed a swift kiss to the edge of House's lips. "Enjoy your lunch."

HHHHHHHHH

House wasn't even done with lunch before Foreman showed up. He rolled his eyes and considered going out on the balcony and back in through Wilson's office. It would have worked, if only Foreman hadn't already been able to see him.

"House, can we talk?"

"If I say no, will it matter?"

Foreman sighed, leaned back against the wall by the bookshelf. Oh, this was going to be good. He had that air of self importance about him, like he knew something everyone else just _needed _to know. "You're going out on a date with Cameron."

"I knew she'd squeal about that."

"And you're sleeping with Chase."

"Sometimes we watch TV."

Foreman glared. "House, this is wrong. You're going to hurt Cameron, and she won't stay then."

"Wrong. What Cameron never knows won't hurt her."

Foreman surged forward, starting to pace. "And you aren't even going to tell her?"

"Well, that wouldn't be very smart of me would it?"

"So you're going to screw Cameron just this once, then back to Chase?"

"Yes. Except for the screwing Cameron part."

"And she'll never know about Chase, just that you didn't want to go out with her again."

"You're putting it all together."

Foreman shook his head. "I don't want to put it all together. This is insane. This is… So _wrong_. To Cameron and to Chase."

"I've talked to Chase." His voice was harder when he said it, and he was pleased to see Foreman back up a step.

"Someone needs to talk to Cameron."

"Not you. It's none of your damn business." House leaned forward, eyes dark with as much sincerity and clarity as possible. "Leave this alone. Seriously. You're not even involved. Just leave it alone."

Foreman shook his head again, so clearly disgusted. He left without another word.

HHHHHHHHH

"I am so telling Wilson you're making my spaghetti from now on." House was finishing off his second huge bowl with all the delighted joy of a little boy. Chase was watching him from across the table, bemused. He was cute like this, acting like a kid again. Of course, sometimes it was more annoying than anything else. Cuddy could certainly vouch for that. But times like now, when it was harmless… It was cute.

"Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it. Not much to do, really, besides following the recipe."

"I always knew you could read."

"Ha." As House finished he tugged his bowl and napkin out from in front of him. "Give me your glass. I have to run the dishwasher."

House drained the last few drops of his coke before tossing it to Chase, missing and hitting the sink instead. Luckily, it didn't shatter. "Oops."

"I'm guessing you never played basketball."

"Lacrosse." The teasing tone in House's voice had dropped, an undercurrent of utter seriousness in it's place.

"Did you?"

House nodded.

"Wow, that's awesome. I always thought it looked hard, catching the ball in those nets. Guess it's not if you get used to it." He was rambling a little, but it was also honest. And he wasn't sure what else to say. It was another moment to remind him of just how much House had really lost. "I never played sports, really. I did sail boats. And I jumped horses."

"Sounds like fun. Rich kid fun."

Chase smiled, shoving the last dish in place. "Yes, well, we had to have it too." He headed back to the table, hands falling to the surface. "And I never thought I was better than anyone."

"You weren't." Chase was a little startled, but he tried not to show it, taken by surprise again when House grabbed his head roughly and pulled him closer. "Not because of your money. Being better than anyone else never has anything to do with money. It has everything to do with other things."

Before Chase could finish working that out he kissed him, hot and passionate in a way that left Chase gasping. Suddenly, he didn't really feel like staying in the kitchen.

HHHHHHHHH

He had been toying with the thought for awhile now but here, at the moment, Chase writhing and whimpering beneath him… It seemed like the perfect time. Not that he was nervous. House was never nervous. Even on something he had never done before. Kissing a trail down Chase's chest he paused at the already undone button of his jeans. His blue eyes rose to meet Chase's, a wicked grin shining in them.

Chase moaned at the sight, head falling back, right hand tangling in his hair. "House…you…"

"Shh."

He nuzzled against him, noted how firm he felt pressed against his cheek. A soft kiss through the fabric had Chase shuddering violently. Deftly, he pulled the jeans and boxers down to expose bare skin. Two soft kisses, a stroke with his familiarly callused hand, then he took a deep breath and began, taking him into his mouth to suck lightly at the tip. He drew on what he knew he liked, swirled his tongue around the sensitive skin. The low, throaty moan was expected, but the involuntary thrust of his hips took House by surprise. He threw an arm across his waist, pressing down just firmly enough to hold him in place. He continued, right hand occasionally joining to stroke what he couldn't reach. He loved the way Chase's grip tightened on his hair, how ragged his breathing sounded, even the way he tasted in his mouth. When he heard gasps of his name mixed with curses he increased the pace with his lips, right hand wandering between his own legs until Chase arched his back, body trembling until it was spent. With a few steady strokes he followed soon after, pressing a kiss to the soft skin where Chase's thigh met his groin as he came down.

Chase trusted his breath again before House did. "That….Was incredible."

House chuckled. "Good to know."

"Seriously…." Chase traced his face lovingly, fingers lingering over the stubble on his cheeks. "Do I want to know where you learned to do that?"

House shrugged. "Never really learned." He moved up the mattress to collapse beside Chase, letting the other man cuddle against him.

"Well, it was amazing." His voice was muffled against House's chest. Warm, content, and sleepy. It made House feel even more like an ass.

"The date's Friday. Just so…You know." He could feel Chase stiffen in his arms. Perfect way to ruin a moment, he knew, but he had wanted to do it like this. He had wanted him limp with pleasure first, exhausted from what House had done to him. He had thought maybe this way it would hurt less. Maybe this way he would know that this is what House wanted to be doing, him. Not Cameron. His plan either worked or didn't, he wasn't entirely sure. Chase didn't answer, though he did press his face farther into the crook of House's neck. He was almost certain he felt a soft kiss there just before Chase fell asleep.

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Because Chase needed something before things get bad.

Yes, I swear, the actual date is in the next chapter.

Hope you guys enjoyed. I am so in love with reviews, it's crazy.


	13. The Past Is Never Far Behind

Thank you all so much for the reviews, they made my morning. (Tough day today…lots of studying for an Anatomy test coming up. Blech.)

Went back and fixed some typos in last chapter. I seriously wrote that half asleep. I'm so glad it came out well. lol

That wonderful thing we call House….I don't own it.

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"I can't believe you're doing this."

House straightened his tie one last time in front of the mirror. "Neither can I."

Wilson stepped up behind him and fixed it for him, oblivious to House's scowl. "I mean, a date for you is huge under any circumstance but this…" His eyes narrowed. "You're sure Chase is ok with this? Are you ok with this? I know that Cameron-"

"God, will everyone stop saying I want to sleep with Cameron? It's getting annoying." He pulled away from Wilson, running his fingers through his hair before grabbing his cane.

"Alright. So, no sex with Cameron. You're not even interested. But you have to make her think you are. She wants-"

"My attention. And she'll get it. For however long I'm out to dinner with her. Then I'll come home."

"To Chase."

"Presumably."

Wilson nodded, slowly. "Good for you." Even that slight praise was given cautiously. Let House know he was heading in the right direction with his life and he might do something stupid just because.

House swiped the corsage off the counter and headed for the door.

"Good luck. Let me know how it goes." Wilson wasn't surprised when he heard no reply beyond the sound of the shutting door. Well…Hopefully, it'd go alright. In the meantime, he was going to do the pile of dishes in House's sink before he left and throw out everything in the freezer that was too ridiculously old. Then, he'd be out of here before Chase showed up. The two of them were going to have to talk about all this someday, he knew, but he wasn't ready to be the best friend talking to the lover yet. He was happy for House but at the same time… He had planned on being here when he got home.

Taking care of House had become such a huge part of life it was ingrained in him. Even if he wasn't losing House, after the past few years of not sharing him at all there'd be an adjustment to make.

HHHHHHHHH

_Later that night_

Chase had never known he could be relax and be put on edge all at the same time by one sound until he heard the key in the lock. He had let himself in about an hour before, using the key House had told him about over the doorframe. The hour had been spent aimlessly watching anything on House's Tivo that seemed interesting, though he couldn't seem to focus on anything for very long. He was nursing a glass of scotch when he heard that sound.

House was home. He looked back over his shoulder, breath catching when he saw him. He did look good in that blue shirt. _For Cameron…_ He pushed that thought away. "Hey."

House nodded, dropping his coat on the table by the door.

"How was dinner?"

"Food. People. Nice restaurant. You know how that goes." He sat down on the couch, rubbing his leg absently.

Chase couldn't resist the urge to do the same and he moved in close to him. "What did you talk about?"

"Anything. Everything. You guys. Work." He closed his eyes, letting his head fall to Chase's shoulder. "She only likes me because I'm damaged."

Chase proceeded carefully. He knew this was a touchy subject, knew House was more hurt by it than he would have ever admitted. "Maybe she just wants to help you."

House pulled away from him. "That's exactly it. She wants to fix me, make me all better, thinks that I can somehow become this fluffy happy person and…." He shook his head. "That's all anyone ever wants. They think there's some magic cure for everything, like if they care enough my whole past will just disappear. For all I know, Wilson could be the same. Or you."

It hurt, but Chase wouldn't show it. "I'm not. I'm not…Trying to fix you. I know you're bitter and I know you're….You. I don't know half the things that have happened in your life. That doesn't mean I don't want to know but I'm not sure if you'll ever tell me. And that's….Ok. If I can make you happy, I will. Not everything can be…Fixed. And not everything needs to be." Tentativly, he took House's hand. "It doesn't make you broken."

"But I am." His voice was soft and agonized, something Chase would have never expected.

"That…Doesn't mean I think I have to fix you. It's alright. I don't want you to be anyone other than yourself. And if your leg was fine, I'd still feel the same."

House let him intertwine their fingers, let him pull him into an embrace but he was still strangely passive. At least he wasn't pulling away. Chase had known, going into this, that it wouldn't be easy. He ran his fingers through House's hair, following with a kiss. He didn't care if it was hard. He wouldn't have traded this for anything.

HHHHHHHHH

_The following night_

He had called House about five times before he drove by the apartment to find it dark. If he was going out, he was pretty sure he would have told him. Should have told him. Sometimes, though, he knew with House what 'should' happen and what did were two separate things. His cell phone was off. Curious, he called work. The phone picked up and clicked immediately back down. Right. So he was in the office.

Chase made it there around 11:30. He was in the dark, playing Dave Matthews, stretched out on the floor. He could see the tennis ball being tossed up and down from behind the desk. Chase crossed the room and sat down in the desk chair, pretty certain that House didn't notice him until then. He seemed lost in thought. "You weren't home."

"Obviously, I'm here."

"I know that, now. But I didn't." Chase caught the ball, directing House's attention from it to him. "I was worried."

House didn't answer for a moment, looked at the ceiling or the walls, anything but him. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, and this isn't weird at all."

"Actually it isn't. I've stayed here late before. Stayed here all night before."

That one he could believe. But that didn't mean it wasn't weird so much as it just meant House did weird things. "You alright?"

"Just thinking. Dave is such a muse."

Chase spun the chair around, eyes falling to the desk. And to a strip of pictures left on top of everything else. They were the photobooth kind of pictures, the kind couples took when they wanted something fun and funny but heartwarming all at the same time. Something random that many couples did but not something he had ever pictured House being up for. And there was her. She was very pretty, dark hair and dark eyes. In one middle picture, she was kissing his cheek. They both looked so happy. He picked it up as he would something dangerous, like a biting snake. "Who is she?"

"No one." That was a pathetic excuse, and Chase didn't even say anything. He knew House would continue when he realized that wouldn't cut it. "No one important. Forget it."

Chase fingered the picture, smoothing out an upturned corner. These had been carried a long time. Clearly, they meant enough to House to always keep them on him. "You look so happy."

"Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving." He held out his hand for the pictures.

Chase wasn't handing them over yet. "Was this before…" he didn't even have to finish that. He heard House give a deep sigh.

"Yeah. Look, it doesn't matter. Come on, we can go if you want."

Chase dropped the pictures into his hand and stood up, turned toward the door but watching House at an angle. He wasn't at all surprised to see House fold the strip and slip in into his wallet. "Do you love her?"

House stepped up behind him, hands on his waist. "Long time ago. I told you, forget it. It doesn't matter." He kissed him then, long, nipping carefully at Chase's lower lip before pulling away. All the same, Chase couldn't help but feel that he had felt somehow…Absent. Going through the motions. Like his mind was still on the woman in the photographs. Uneasy, Chase followed him out the door.

HHHHHHHHH

House sat up in bed, watching the moonlight hit the sleeping frame of the man beside him. Something about the date with Cameron, either that or his closeness with Chase. They weren't living together, but they spent most nights at House's apartment. Something about it had triggered the memories of Stacy, strong enough that he could feel his heart snapping all over again. Stacy. Looking at those pictures, he had missed her so much he could hardly breathe.

She was the first one he had loved, had fallen for heart and soul. She left him, but that didn't mean she gave it all back. Being honest with himself, now…. She would have had his heart, if she had asked it of him. She wouldn't even have to be sorry, and that was the sick thing about it. He'd take her back even to hurt himself even worse in the long run. He couldn't say no.

None of it mattered, of course. She was long gone. He hadn't even seen her in five years. Maybe she was happy. Maybe she never thought of him. Maybe she was asleep right now, dreaming good dreams. Maybe. Truthfully, it didn't matter anymore. He didn't want to put a label on it, but he felt things now, watching Chase sleep, that he hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe he could just start over…

If he never told Chase about Stacy, he'd never know that he wasn't his first choice. If second choice was all you had, it would have to be good enough. For both of them.

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Big collective awwwwwwwww for Chase…

House's mental issues do, however, make for good drama. ::evil laughter::

Unfortunately, I have tutoring now for Calc and a huge test tomorrow. And social stuff tonight. So I'll barely fit it all in as is and won't be able to do any writing. Hopefully, tomorrow'll be different.


	14. Three Stories

Ok, so I said no more writing until tomorrow. But then I got told I couldn't go see my friend because I needed to study for my Anatomy test. Believe me, more than anyone else I know that I need to study. But I hate being controlled. And THAT just pissed me off. Which is humorous in a way, because when I'm pissed off, I can't study. So that accomplished nothing.

Sorry, just had to rant for a minute.

I really wish I owned House right now. Because that means I'd be watching it in two hours and fifteen minutes. However, I don't.

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_(Three Stories)_

House sat down on the bench, head falling into his hands. Shaking hands. This was what one conversation reduced him to?

_I missed you._

_Is that why you're here?_

_I need your help._

Of course. Of course it couldn't be that she had missed him like he had missed her. Every day. For the first three years or so, every hour wouldn't be an exaggeration. Damn.

_Did you think I wouldn't get married?_

How was he supposed to answer that? _No. Hell no. Not to someone who wasn't me._ He couldn't say that, but it was what he felt. The thought of her married, sharing her life with someone, sharing his bed… His blood boiled. He felt sick.

_I'm not sure I want him to live._

He had told the truth, at least. He wasn't at all sure he wanted him to live. In fact, he was fairly certain he wanted him to die a slow, painful death. Stacy would be hurt but then maybe… Maybe she'd come back to him. Maybe she's apologize. Maybe she had married what's-his-name to try to get over him and never really had.

And while he was imagining things, maybe they could go on a run together. He needed to get a grip. He had to get a grip.

"Hey…"

The soft Australian accent was as familiar as the warm hand that rested on his shoulder. Both belonged to the last person he had wanted to find him like this. He swallowed hard, rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Are you alright?" Chase was sitting beside him now, as close as he dared without looking suspicious.

House sat upright. "Fine. Yeah."

Chase wasn't buying it. "What the hell happened?"

"Gotta go. Class to teach."

He stood but Chase did too, catching his arm. "Hey… Stop this, alright?" he lowered his voice. "I'm worried about you. You look…I don't know. Sick or like somebody died or something. Your family ok?"

"All great. Dad'll live forever." He was still trying to get away.

"Your leg, is it hurting? Do you need me to get you-"

"If you want to write me a script, write me a damn script. Other than that, leave me alone, alright?"

Chase stopped, obviously wounded.

House sighed loudly. Damn his easily hurt feelings. He lowered his voice. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's not your fault, or anyone else's. I'm fine. But I do have to go teach that class."

Chase nodded, mutely.

House swore internally. What the hell did the kid want him to do? They were in the hallway, it wasn't like he could take him in his arms and kiss him right there to apologize. "I didn't mean for that to come out the way it did." His eyes were softer now, and he could see Chase shift, soften a little himself.

"Alright. Don't worry about it."

Ironic. He had enough things to worry about. And, true to form, he would continue to dwell on them all. He limped into the classroom, already knowing what the subject of this talk had to be.

HHHHHHHHH

Chase knocked on Wilson's door rapid fire, almost as annoying as House probably was. Wilson immediately beckoned him in.

"I was pretty sure it wasn't House. He hardly ever knocks. What's up?"

Chase fidgeted with back of a chair before sitting down, eyes on his hands. "Something's wrong with House."

"Something's wrong like he's sick or like he's messed up in the head? Because I know-"

"I'm serious."

At that, Wilson's smile disappeared. "What happened?"

"He's been…Funny for the past couple of days but that could just be me I don't know for certain but just now I found him sitting on a bench in the hall downstairs and he… He was shaky, and he looked like he'd just been through hell. Wouldn't tell me a thing about what was going on and he damn near snapped my head off for pushing it." Chase sighed. "I want him to tell me. But if he won't…" He looked up at Wilson, soft green eyes begging. "I think he might tell you. Then at least someone can help him."

Wilson nodded, shoulders already sagging with the weight of House's problems. "Thank you. For telling me. Where is he now?"

"He's teaching some class for Cuddy. First floor in that big auditorium."

"I'll head down there in a little while, catch him on a break. See what he'll tell me."

Chase stood to leave. "Thank you." A pause, then, "How do you do it…Take care of him all the time? Doesn't it…"

"Wear me out? Drive me crazy? You could fill in a lot of things there and they would all be true." Wilson met Chase's eyes. "Because I love him. In a different way than you do, but I love him."

Chase shifted.

"Have you told him?"

"That I love him?"

A nod.

"No." _How could I?_

Wilson tapped his pen on his keyboard. "Maybe…You should."

HHHHHHHHH

Chase sat at House's desk, tennis ball rolling across the surface between his hands. His coffee sat untouched by the computer. He had done nothing but sit here thinking. Thinking, and waiting for House to come back upstairs. It hadn't happened yet. His pager going off scared the hell out of him and he jumped violently before wrestling it from his belt and into his hands.

**Come to my office.**

Wilson. He was already in House's office so it must be… He was next door in a minute, opening the door without knocking this time. "Is he alright?"

Wilson's look was grim enough to tell him otherwise. "Sit down."

He did, hands still turning his pager over and over. He was picking up a few bad habits from House. He needed to be doing something with his hands.

"Has House ever told you anything about Stacy?"

Chase shook his head. "No. But since you say it with that much weight…I'm thinking I saw her picture. Last week. They were in a photo booth."

Wilson nodded heavily. "Yes. That's Stacy. They were together for five years. Actually, they lived together for five years."

"He loved her."

"He still does."

Chase's heart tightened in his chest. This conversation wasn't going anywhere he liked.

"She was with him, for the infarction but she left about 7 months after…She thought it was best for him, thought he didn't want to be with her anymore. Or so she says. I can't get inside her head, I'm not… Sure if that's the real reason. What I do know is that it tore House apart but he was too proud to go after her. And now… She came today to ask him for help. Treating her husband."

Chase sat back in his chair, feeling strangely like his backbone had collapsed.

"He's told her no, so far, but I don't think that'll hold."

Chase nodded. "Right."

Wilson sat forward, elbows on his desk. "Chase, listen…I have every belief that House has feelings for you. But Stacy has been the love of his life for years. I just wanted to warn you… This may not go well for you. But it'll go even worse for him."

"You think she'll leave him again, even if he does get her back?" The words tasted terrible in his mouth but he shoved them out anyway, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I think that there are a lot of ways he could get hurt. And knowing House, he'll probably find the majority of them." Wilson scooted even farther forward. "I know this is a crazy thing to ask. But don't leave him."

That cleared Chase's head a little bit. "You don't…Have to tell me that. I wouldn't have left him anyway." He shook his head, stronger now that he was standing up for himself. "Not even if he did go after her."

Wilson looked a little startled but he caught it quickly. His gaze turned to something like pity. "You do love him, don't you?"

Chase hesitated. That in itself answered, but it would feel good to tell someone. "More than I thought possible. More than I should."

Wilson smiled, sad and a little wistful. "God help you."

Somehow, even that didn't seem comforting. Chase left, unsure of if he thanked Wilson for the information or not. Stacy. Her name was Stacy. Maybe she didn't even know what she had done, but she was coming here to steal everything that was his.

He wished House would just let her husband die.

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Ah, drama.

Well, at least I'm a little less pissed off now.

Reviews are love guys, and make wonderful, wonderful happy thoughts.


	15. Honeymoon

Well, I either just failed that test or aced it. As disconcerting as that thought is, nothing I can do about it now. Might as well not worry.

Own House I do not. (Felt like Yoda there for a minute. Must need a SW fix.)

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In light of all he had heard, Chase wasn't sure what to say to House or how to even approach him. He had spent the past few hours down in NICU, thinking over everything from Stacy to the infarction to the first time House had kissed him out on the balcony. He was fairly certain House wouldn't have gone home and he was right. He sat at his desk, a file open and his glasses on, studying it intently. He looked up when Chase opened the door. "Thought you had gone home."

"NICU."

He looked back down at the folder. "Abdominal pain, personality changes, and fainting spells. Differential diagnosis."

Chase leaned over the desk, looking upside down at the folder. "Do we really have to do this now?"

House pulled his glasses off, folded them and dropped them beside the computer. "No. You can go home if you want. I want all of you here early Monday morning though."

He was talking to him like any one of them, like he was back to just being a generic one of his fellows. His hands tightened on the rim of the desk. "Whatever you want." When House didn't immediately speak, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills, dropping them onto the file. "Here's your Vicodin. If you need it." House caught his wrist as he pulled his hand back.

"I'm…Sorry. About earlier."

Chase shook his head. "No. It's alright. I understand you had a…-" He had been going to say rough day, but then he knew he'd give everything away. He already had.

House 's eyes let up the way they always did when he was working on a puzzle. "You've been talking to Wilson."

"…Yeah."

He let go of his wrist, swiveled around in his chair. "So he told you about Stacy."

"Yeah."

"Hmm." He couldn't read House's thoughts any easier than he could a foreign language at that moment. "Come here."

Curious, Chase crossed around behind the desk. Reaching up, House pulled him down for a kiss, more awkward and tentative than they had been used to but a kiss all the same. Chase warmed to it, right hand falling to smooth House's shirt across his shoulder. When the kiss ended, House wouldn't look at him. "I'll talk to you sometime tomorrow."

Chase eased back, resisting the urge to kiss him again. "See you tomorrow then."

It would be the first night in a long time he hadn't fallen asleep in House's arms or at least within his reach. It was going to be a long night.

HHHHHHHHH

_Saturday night_

After an hour and a half of The OC and complete and total silence, Chase pulled the remote from the arm of the couch and muted it. When House glared, he didn't back down. "Are you even going to talk to me?"

"I talked to you when you came in. I call you didn't I?"

"Yeah, you called me, told me I could come over, and hung up. And you haven't said 10 words to me the whole time I've been here." House was still stubbornly glaring. Chase eased back the anger in his voice. "Come on…We need to talk about this."

House stared into the TV. "I told Stacy I'd treat Mark."

"I thought so."

"I don't want to treat Mark." He looked at Chase then, a surprising amount of honesty in his eyes. "He's my patient, and I don't want to make him better. I want him to die."

Chase turned on the sofa, sitting sideways so he could better face House. "That doesn't make you a bad person. It's not like he's _just_ your patient. He's…Her husband." He didn't even want to say her name.

"I hate him."

"I understand." As much as this whole conversation hurt, if he wasn't understanding, House wouldn't come to him at all. He definitely didn't want that.

House shook his head. "No, you…Have you ever been in love?"

_Yes. __With you._ But now wasn't the time to say it, and Chase just looked away. "Does that matter? I've been hurt by people before. People I did love, even if I wasn't _in_ love with them. I know how that feels."

"If he died, I think she could get over it."

Deep breath. Now, for the thing he most didn't want to say. "If you want to be with her…You should."

"That may not be an option." House looked up at Chase, unreadable. "You say that like it doesn't matter to you."

"NO. It does. But…Your happiness matters more."

House laughed, harsh and full of sarcasm. "I'm never happy."

"That's exactly why it matters. In that picture, you looked…So happy. If she makes you happy…" His eyes were shut, his brain running on automatic. He couldn't say this while he was looking at him. It hurt too damn much. He felt weight shift on the couch, and when he opened his eyes House was beside him, close.

"You love me. Or at least you think you do."

"Does that matter?"

House tapped two fingers on his arm, gentle as his touch on the piano. Chase repressed a shiver, realizing then that that touch was an addiction. He would do anything, put up with anything to feel House's hands on him. Especially like this, gentle and elegant with just enough affection. His Vicodin. "I don't know…Anything right now."

"Everyone's confused sometimes, House." Heaven forbid House admit he was lost.

And he looked it. So lost, so hurt and confused that Chase knew he couldn't care about his problems anymore. He understood what Wilson meant just then, the point of caring so much that you'd throw yourself into a fire if it gave House some light to walk by. An addiction. And, in a way, a sickness. But there was no turning back now. He pulled House against him, head tucked into his shoulder. He was relieved when he didn't resist. He nuzzled against him, spoke only when his voice was muffled, lips against House's temple. "You're right. I love you."

"I'm always right. And you're an idiot." House kissed his neck, tightened his grip. Chase settled back against the couch, readjusting their position so House could rest comfortably enough to keep weight off his bad leg. He unmuted and rewound the Tivo, searching back for the point in the show where their conversation had started.

He could feel House's steady heartbeat against him, his breath on his skin. House was right. He was an idiot. But emotions had no on/off switch. The knowledge that this was insane didn't mean he could stop. And right now, in this moment… Everything was alright.

HHHHHHHHH

_(Honeymoon)_

"I talked to Stacy this morning, during the Alzheimer's test."

"Hm." Chase focused on the computer screen before him, careful to keep his voice steady.

"She said she lived with House for five years, can you imagine that?"

His mind flashed through pizza and Chinese in front of the TV, House asleep against his shoulder, the way House felt against him in his bed. _Yes. I can._ "Maybe they were in love. That's generally what most people would be, to stay together that long."

"She must know some trick, something about getting through to him or getting along with him."

"Yeah, she's all magic."

"What's your problem?"

Chase cursed himself internally. He shouldn't be giving anything away. "Didn't get much sleep last night." And that was true. He hadn't.

"I asked her about him, before, and I told her about our date…She said their first date didn't go too well either, but then they moved in together a week later, so it didn't mean there was no chance for us or anything." Cameron looked so damn hopeful he would have hit her if she hadn't been a woman.

"Don't get your hopes up."

"It could work, you never know. Stacy said-"

He cut her off, abruptly. "What Stacy said doesn't mean anything except that her and House got off to a bad start and then a good one within a short amount of time. That doesn't mean he feels the same way about you." She looked shocked. "I'm…Sorry. But that's true. Sometimes things just don't work out." He wanted to tell her to stay the hell away, that he didn't need anything or anyone else complicating his life. But that would have given a lot of things away he didn't want to give away.

"Stacy could have been right though. I might have a chance." So stubborn. Or idealistic. Or naïve. Probably all three.

"Have you seen the way she looks at him? I don't think she wants anyone else to have him, no matter what she says." And that he most certainly did believe. He had watched her like a hawk, watched the way her eyes ran over him when they talked, the way she stood closer to him than most people were allowed. She touched him too easily. Every time she did, Chase had to quell the urge to throw the nearest heavy object out the nearest window.

"I doubt that's true. She got married, didn't she?"

"Doesn't mean she wants him to. Look, I could be wrong but you could be too. Sometimes people do the opposite of what they really want, and a lot of times they don't let go of things…Just because she's moved on, if she even has moved on, that doesn't mean she wants him to." Sick of that train of thought and of the conversation in general Chase shoved his stool away from the counter. "I'm going to dinner. I'll be back to check these results."

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Sometimes, Cameron is really annoying. I definitely don't hate her or anything, but in this story because of the nature of it she just can't be the 'good guy'. Not that she's a guy. Whatever.

Thank you so, so much to everyone for the amazing reviews! They never fail to brighten my day.


	16. The Beginning

Thank you so much for the reviews! You guys are wonderful.

Shadows, you're right. I didn't realize I didn't go into their reactions of the day after the date….I may go back through and add it, eventually, but if I do it'll probably be after I finish this(whenever that may be. lol).

Nikelodean, while the pleading look is sad(and made me laugh), only way is to go through the Stacy era…even though it seriously sucks for poor Chase. And poor House, in a way. (I wouldn't worry too much. I love happy endings. )

And thanks so much to everyone who wished me luck on the test, hopefully it helped. I definitely appreciated it.

Right. So I don't own House. Never have, never will.

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House was working on his third glass of scotch when he heard the knock on the door. Well. His third glass since he had gotten home from the bar. He had sort of lost count of drinks in total. "Wilson, let yourself in. I am still alive, though, so you might not want to bother."

"It's me." Chase. Well.

"Fine. Well, I'm still not getting up." He heard the door open and shut quietly behind him. "Wilson called you."

"Yeah."

"That wasn't a question."

Chase walked around to the table and took up the bottle of scotch, screwing the lid on and heading back to the kitchen. House's head jerked up, following him. "Hey, I wasn't done with that."

"You are now."

"I'm fine…" In the time it took him to move and start searching for his cane Chase was back, taking his cane and pushing House firmly back against the couch with one hand on his chest.

"You're not, and don't get up. You're drunk."

"No shit."

"Yeah, well, you don't need to be-"

"What, walking? I can walk."

"Yeah, well, if I was that drunk I know I couldn't walk. Just…Stay there." Chase sighed heavily, spinning the cane absently in his hands for a minute before easing it to the floor. "House…Wilson just told me you were upset and you'd been drinking all night, that he had dropped you off but you said you were fine, and that I should probably come over here. What he didn't tell me is what the hell started all of this. Obviously, I know in a general sort of way but…."

"I want him to die."

"We've already been through this. That's…Ok. It's natural even."

"I don't know if I want to be with Stacy or if I'm just hoping she'll get hurt."

"Because she hurt you."

House laid back, right arm falling over his face to cover his eyes. "Yeah." He barely whispered it, but he knew Chase heard him.

"She's always…Touching him, comforting him."

"Well…That is what you're supposed to do for someone you love. Comfort them."

There was a certain tone to his voice that suggested that sentence had all sorts of meanings. House was too drunk to analyze them. "I'm no good at comfort."

"You're better than you think. You're just…Different." He could hear Chase lift his glass from the table and take a sip from his as-yet-unfinished final glass. "Was she there for you? When the infarction happened?"

Good question. The real answer would have taken a day and a half to explain. Yes and no. She was there but she wasn't. She took care of him, physically. Past that things got a little fuzzy. With all her guilt in the way, she had a tendency to shut down or to cry at the slightest thing, not least of which included his moods. Sure, he was pushing her away. He was having trouble. But she didn't' fight it. She just let him push. He had wanted her to fight it, had meant for her to. He hadn't wanted things to end the way they did but he never found the words. Part of him said she hadn't really loved him anyway if he had been able to push her out. "Yes. She was." He couldn't help but stand up for her. It was obvious enough that Chase hated her already. Still, this lie he just might see through so… "Until she wasn't."

"That's clear."

"Until she left."

"How long?"

"A few months. It doesn't really matter anymore. I was an ass to her."

"You've been an ass to me before but that's never stopped me. Didn't stop me from coming over here now."

That one was a little more obvious. His head was starting to hurt and he was too tired to keep thinking. "She would have done something like that….Checked up on me…"

"Would she? Did she?"

_No. Not __one fucking__ word for five years._ "My head hurts. Give it a rest."

"Sorry." He heard Chase move, felt his fingers rake through his hair, his lips on his forehead. "Come on. You'll be more comfortable in bed."

HHHHHHHHH

He had intended to get House into bed and leave, really he had. As self important as it sounded, he wanted to make him think, he wanted him to compare him to Stacy. As long as it was a comparison he would win. Equally, though, he wanted House to miss his presence, realize just how often Chase had been there for him lately. He couldn't miss him if nothing changed.

But his best laid plans meant nothing in the face of the way House had grabbed his wrist as he started to leave, a wordless plea not to leave him alone. After that, there was no way he could have left.

Chase got up early for work, showered and dressed all without waking House. He had so much on his mind that even in his sleep he looked worried. Chase pulled the blankets up more securely around him before he left. He might as well get plenty of sleep before he came in, he'd be less grumpy and more ready to deal.

Hopefully, after a semi-good night's sleep he could find some answers.

HHHHHHHHH

_The following evening_

_You were…You were the one. You always will be._

Perfect. If he was the one, then why the hell had she left? Fine, so she was lonely with him. They could have worked on that. He loved her. She said she loved him. Her rational made no sense. It was illogical.

_You were the one._

Wouldn't that mean he was still the one? And if he was the one, shouldn't he fight for her? _Fucking hell…_ He leaned against the window, the glass startlingly cold against his forehead. He hadn't had the best life since she'd been gone, but at least it had been fairly free of complications. He raised his arm to press against the glass as well, watched the raindrops flow through and across his fingers.

He could still feel her lips on his skin. It did the same things to him it always had. The walking away, that had added another hole to his already damaged-beyond-recognition heart.

"The paralysis is fading."

House had never even heard the door open. "Yeah. I know." _I saw. I'd rather not have._

He flinched at Chase's hand on his back, then felt a little guilty as Chase withdrew it. "Are you alright?"

"Sure."

"Of course not. Sorry."

House sighed. He could see his breath on the window. If he looked at just the right angle, he could see Chase's reflection. Chase looked worried, anxious, a little wounded. No matter what he looked, House couldn't talk right now. "Go get Mark set up in a more permanent room. He's going to be here for another week or so before he can go home."

Chase's reflection nodded, turned, then hesitated. "House I'm-"

"You're not sorry. And I wouldn't expect you to be. Now go. I don't want to talk right now."

Chase left without another word. He felt too sick to really feel guilty yet, though he knew that would come later. For now, he just wanted to be alone. Watch the rain. There was nothing confusing about that.

HHHHHHHHH

**Stacy's staying. ****Legal advisor.****Again.**

Wilson tossed his phone from hand to hand for a moment, contemplating his response.

**So I heard. You agreed?**

**Why not.**

Not the best answer, but he could hear House saying it. If a text could 'sound' defeated, it did. His phone buzzed again.

**No, I don't need you to come over. And don't you dare call Chase.**

**I'm not sure you should be alone.** He might as well be blunt.

**I'm not sure you should be talking to Debbie in accounting, but I don't come down there and join you. Leave me the hell alone. **

Wilson's fingers hovered over the buttons. He selected Chase's number. **Stacy's staying. ****Legal advisor.**

HHHHHHHHH

Chase read the message again. Then again. Then again. It's not like it took more than a second. All the same, he could feel the mounting dread every time he read it. Stacy was staying. There was no specified time frame. He had thought that in a week or so House would calm down, they would work things out, their relationship would move forward. Maybe even improve.

His problems weren't over. It sounded like they were just beginning.

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::ominous music::

lol

Poor, poor Chase.

So, as a side note, I watched the blooper reel for Season 2(something I'd never watched before)and noticed that the House/Chase conversation was a bit shippy(at least to my eyes). It is, at least, really amusing. If you haven't watched it, you should(might can even find it on youtube….).


	17. Acceptance

So…start of season 2! That's a milestone. (albeit, a bit of a depressing one cause the first half of season 2 is…Stacyish.) Huge thanks to everyone who's reviewing this, and to everyone who's just reading it. I am truly honored and so glad that you enjoy it.

If I owned House, I would be rich. $30 in my wallet doesn't constitute rich. Therefore…

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Chase waited a day before he called, and even then he didn't really expect an answer. On Sunday, he went to House's apartment and let himself in. House was there, of course, and in one piece which was a relief. He was passed out on the couch, two open bottles on the table. One was Jack Daniel's, the other, Vicodin. The whisky was ¾ empty but the pills were ¾ full so he wasn't seriously concerned. All the same, he'd feel better once he got House up. He shook him gently. "House." A little harder. "_House_."

House blinked, pulled slightly away and back into the cushions of the couch. "What?"

"Just…thought I should wake you up."

"You thought wrong. I went to bed at 7 this morning. Thanks a lot."

"Sorry." He collected the whisky at which House surprisingly didn't protest and went to the kitchen, emerging a few minutes later with two microwaved burritos and a glass of water. "Here. Something tells me you haven't eaten."

House took them without a thank you or even really an acknowledgment. He turned the TV on. Meerkat Manor. Looked like they were back to just sitting there in silence. Chase sat down at House's feet, shifting them into his lap to have room to sit.

"Stacy's staying."

"Wilson told me."

"That rat."

Chase laughed, a sound devoid of humor. "So…how long?"

"I don't know. Until Mark gets better, presumably. Cuddy may keep her around if it works out and if she wants to. Who knows."

He wanted to word this carefully. "Are you…Ok with her staying?"

"Everyone seems to think I need taking care of. Even Stacy said she'd only stay if it was ok with me. What the hell am I, some five year old you have to pacify?"

_Yes._ "We just want to help."

"Well, you don't have to." House pushed his plate across the table and Chase took it, left for the kitchen. House's bad mood had lasted and probably even worsened. He didn't just want to give up but he didn't know how to handle this. Wilson had the experience here(as did Stacy, but that thought alone made him ill), but he didn't necessarily want to ask him what to do. That felt like giving up in itself. He wanted to be with House, he was going to have to figure how to deal with him when he was like this. Still, it was incredibly discouraging.

He did all the dishes, then returned to find House hadn't even moved. He was now watching American Hot Rod. Chase leaned over the back of the couch. "If you want me to go, I will."

"If you want."

He should have known that was the wrong thing to say. Trying to prove he wouldn't leave and offering to at the first annoyance didn't really go hand in hand. "Of course I don't."

"Then sit down." He was either imagining it, or his voice was just a little softer. House sat up to give him more room, reached out and popped what looked like two Vicodin.

Chase figured it was wiser not to say anything. When House lay down again it was in the other direction, his head resting on Chase's lap. It wasn't long before he fell asleep. Figuring he needed it, Chase sat through four hours of mindblowingly boring TV spent mostly thinking and watching House sleep.

When he woke, he got up and headed off without a word. Chase waited. He could hear the shower cut on. It was 4:30. House would probably want dinner when he came back. Chase hauled himself up from the couch and to the end table drawer.

At least he was here. At least House was still, in some form, trying. Whatever that meant.

HHHHHHHHH

_(Acceptance)_

"I heard you got drunk with the patient."

"Talk a little lower." House was at his desk, sunglass on, blinds drawn, and head resting on his arms. Somehow he reminded Chase of the bad kid in school, stubbornly disobeying the teacher after being told not to put their head down.

"You did. You're hungover."

"Shut up."

"Brought you Starbucks."

"God, you're amazing."

Even through the sarcasm, Chase couldn't help the way his heart leapt. He was an idiot. He handed over the hazelnut mocha, he couldn't help but smile at the way House reached for it, fingers extending as far as possible without actually putting out too much effort. The perfect of showing interest and yet not trying. He pulled over the nearest chair and straddled it, chin resting on the back as he watched House. "Death row guy going back to death row?"

"Still think he's sick, remember? Keeping him here. If Stacy'll cover for me."

"Do you think she'll cover for you?"

House shrugged. "This is kind of an experiment. I don't know what she'll do, to be really honest."

Chase's phone vibrated and he flipped it open. Great. "Cuddy's looking for you." _Looks like Stacy couldn't be trusted._ For just an instant, he could make out the tinge of sorrow in House's eyes.

All same, he couldn't help but be just a little pleased.

HHHHHHHHH

Unfortunately for Chase, he ran into Cuddy first. "Dr.Chase."

_Dam__n __it._ "Yes?'

"Where is Dr.House?"

Nowhere she needed to find him. "He's scheduled for clinic duty."

Cuddy's eyes narrowed. "Which means he's as far away from the clinic as possible which means he's either in his office or Wilson's. Or out of the building. Or in coma guy's room."

Chase shrugged non-commitally.

"When is he discharging death row guy?"

"When he's healthy. House still thinks-"

"House thinks he's a puzzle, he'd keep him here forever trying to sort out his mental issues. His mental issues don't matter, the state of New Jersey has already decided that he needs to die."

Chase shrugged. "I don't know where House is." Only a half lie. He wasn't exactly sure where House was at this exact moment. He could have been anywhere. Or maybe at least on the other side of his office. He did have a question though, for House's sake. "When did Stacy tell you?"

"As soon as she knew he was staying. Why?"

"Just curious." She seemed to have nothing else to say, and he was more than happy to get out of this conversation so…

"Dr.Chase."

He turned back slowly.

"Is House alright?"

Is House alright. A book could be written on that subject. The answer could range anywhere from 'fuck no' to 'no'. He hadn't known a time when he would have been able to answer 'yes' and still be honest. "He'll be fine."

She looked sad, worried. Sometimes he forgot that she cared about him too. "Is his leg hurting more? More than it was a couple months ago?"

Chase thought back, counted in his head, envisioned how many pills he had seen House take. Had there been more rough days? Probably. Were they emotionally linked? Probably. But he didn't want Cuddy saying it was all in his head. Something about that pissed him off. Maybe because he had seen House in huge amount of pain before. That much pain couldn't all be in your head. No matter how depressed you felt. "His leg always hurts, some days more some days less, as far as I can tell." He wanted to say that he was just having a rough time, but he couldn't give away that he knew too much. That could be disastrous. "If you're worried, you can ask him."

"He won't tell me anything. He never does."

"Then you can ask Wilson. I really don't know."

Again, she wouldn't let him walk away. "When you find House, tell him I need to see him immediately. And death row guy is out of here."

HHHHHHHHH

He had been wondering when he would run into Stacy. He had spoken to her here and there, mostly when they were treating Mark. Nothing big. He tried to keep his conversations brief. Any longer and he might do something drastic. Like jump off the roof. Or somehow reveal his possessiveness toward House. Either option sucked.

He met her at lunch in the cafeteria when he had the misfortune to be behind her in line. She struck up the conversation. "Dr. Chase. How's the morning been?"

"Good." Nothing bad to say if he kept to one word answers.

"I hear the inmate's being sent back. With new evidence that may eventually clear him."

"Yeah."

"You're not happy with me are you?"

Perceptive. Or he was just really, really bad at hiding his emotions. "House trusted you." It was the only thing he could say.

Stacy sighed. "You think I wanted to break that trust? He broke mine first."

_What is this, kindergarten?_ It was no excuse, but he couldn't say it like that. "Still…"

"Why are you sticking up for him? I hear he treats you like crap."

_Debatable._ Well. Most of the time he didn't. Not really. It just looked that way. There times….He shoved those thoughts away. It wasn't the time for them. "I just think that if someone trusts you, you should be careful with that trust. That's all. It doesn't mean I'm just generically sticking up for him." _Except that I would. But that's not the point._

She chewed her bottom lip. "Ok, so I don't feel so good about what I did. I can't change it now, and he'll be alright. It's not like I caused any permanent damage and he got around it. Guy got cured." They were at the end of the line. "I'll see you around."

Didn't cause any permanent damage. Permanent as in permanent for the patient or permanent for House's trust in her? Unfortunately, both were probably true. House would, he was sure, continue to put false trust in her and get screwed over. Permanent damage as in House's emotions…That, he was pretty sure, she had caused. More of it than she knew.

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Finally, Cuddy pops into the story. I hadn't realized she had been so non-existant other than mentioned in conversation. lol

Hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	18. Autopsy

So, I can tell Stacy is definitely the most hated character right now. lol

Sorry for the delay over the weekend(alive and kicking though ;) ). A friend of mine had an emotional meltdown(everyone say it with me…men are idiots), and besides that, my friend going to college out of town came home, so she gets all my time(or until church Sunday morning), after which I had to study for a Calc test(spawn of Satan).

Unfortunately for me but fortunately for you, Lisa can't come home next weekend. I'll have time, and I'll be missing her….great for making me want to just sit down and write. lol

And I still, still do not own House.

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_(Autopsy)_

"You," House pointed his cane at Chase from the door way, a genuine smile on his face. "Cheated on me. With a 9 year old." He grinned even wider. "In fact, that might be a little creepy if it wasn't so funny. Or maybe not creepy." He started toward Chase, shifting his look from one of sheer amusement to mock pain. "Maybe I should be hurt."

Chase rolled his eyes. "Yeah, she was just so irresistible I decided to pick her over you."

"Now that does sound creepy. Maybe there's something I should know about you? You like 'em young? And I mean young as in-"

"Shut up." If he was going to have to listen to this for the next few days life was going to be hell. Granted, he was happy House was joking around with him again. It felt normal.

"So, got anyone else on the side? Should I check the local elementary school, see who you've been taking to those matinee movies on your lunch break?"

"You're the one on the side." It came out easy, the joke hiding the truth behind it. The whole relationship was 'on the side'.

"Ouch." House leaned over the back of his chair, still smiling. "That wasn't very nice."

"You kept at it."

"I'm good at that." He leaned over and kissed him then and Chase welcomed it, brought his hand up to hold him there. It had been awhile since they had kissed like this, easy and familiar. Apparently, Stacy was forgotten. At least for the moment. Chase wanted to keep it that way. He turned a little in his seat, hand snaking more firmly around House's neck.

They pulled apart at a cough from the door. Foreman. House shook his head. "And here I was hoping that the next one to walk in on us would be Cameron. You're getting boring." Chase's spirits sank. Funny as Cameron would have been, a part of him he would have never voiced had been hoping that Stacy would see. That would fix a lot of things. Or make them worse, if House got pissed.

"Glass windows. Anyone could have seen you two."

"Well I'll keep that in mind. Next time, I'll be sure to wait till there's a good audience."

Foreman rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Whatever." He tossed some files down on the table. "Potential next patients. And Stacy wants to see you." His eyes brows rose. "I'm assuming she doesn't-" The glare alone stopped him. "Right. See you later."

House was hardly two steps behind Foreman in walking out the door. Chase sighed, staring into his coffee cup with a look he knew must be somewhere between frustrated and hopeless. The morning had been going so well until Foreman brought _her_ up.

HHHHHHHHH

He treated her door with just a little more respect than Wilson's, knocking as he turned the handle rather than just walking in. "You wanted me?"

She narrowed her eyes, zeroing in on the suggestion in his words. "I wanted to talk to you, yes."

He shut the door and leaned back against it. That gave him a safe distance. "About?"

"Greg, whatever you may think of me, I don't want you to think you can't trust me. You can."

He cocked his head at her, eyes looking up at the ceiling. "See…I would believe that if you hadn't just proved to me that I can't."

"Cuddy just gave me my job back. I don't want her thinking you can get me do whatever you want."

"Can I get you to do whatever I want?"

She gave him a look he knew from experience meant 'Don't push it'.

"I used to." He muttered it under his breath, like a little kid protesting an unfair punishment.

"Yeah, well, as you said…Everything changes."

"Nice. Use it against me."

Stacy glanced at her watch. "Well, I have a meeting with someone who's being sued. Malpractice. I just…" She searched a moment for the words, nails tapping on the desk. "I just wanted to make sure we were alright."

"We're alright." As alright, at least, as it seemed like they could ever be. He gave her a smile before he left though he knew he shouldn't have bothered. She had been with him long enough to tell the real from the fake.

HHHHHHHHH

"I'm worried about House."

Chase's shoulders slumped and he stirred his coffee slower. Of course. Wilson had to bring this up now. "Since when are you not worried about House? It's a like one of those constant things…This dull roar that you can't quite shut up." By 'you', he knew Wilson knew he meant the two of them. It was a connection they had now, this worry for House. A sick connection, but it was something to bond over. Something to talk about. Chase smiled wryly, remembering when he had normal things in common with other people. He used to talk about football matches back home.

"More than usual. I thought he was treating a cold with cocaine."

Chase's eyebrows shot up, but with his back to Wilson he knew the other man couldn't see. "You thought…That means it wasn't true. But even if it had been, I would bet my life savings he was such a druggie in school." Yet he still came out brilliant. At that thought, he couldn't help but feel a little pride.

"He only moves onto drugs other than the Vicodin when he's depressed, wanting a distraction. I'm afraid he'll move onto something more destructive."

"What, heroin? I'm pretty sure he'd be smart enough not to do that. Or he'd at least cut himself off." Silence. Chase turned to face him. "What are you not telling me."

Wilson fidgeted, hands toying with his tie before falling to his hips. "He's cut himself before."

Chase swallowed hard. "Like…Suicide cutting?"

Wilson shook his head. "With him it's hard to be sure what he means. It was only after the infarction and after Stacy left…His two lowest points as far as I know. But I haven't known him forever. There are things even I don't know. What I do know is that depression is a black hole for him…If something doesn't pull him away from it, he's content to just keep going deeper. Finding distractions. Shutting himself off."

Chase wanted to laugh. Figures. His future just had to be more troubled than his past. Nothing can get worse than watching your alcoholic mum drink herself to death? Fall in love with someone with even more issues, then say things can't get worse! He rubbed his eyes wearily. "What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. Obviously, I'll do what I can for him but….I don't have any answers. I just wanted you to know my suspicions."

"That he's getting worse."

"…Yes."

"And this is Stacy's fault."

"Yes."

The thoughts that crossed his mind then would have sent most good Catholics straight to confessional. At least he had long ago stopped being a good Catholic. It saved a lot of time.

HHHHHHHHH

There was no good way to bring up the subject, so he just decided on being blunt. "Heard you had Wilson fooled."

"I think Wilson's replaced me! You must be his new best friend. Hi, Greg House, nice to meet you."

Chase held his hands up, a gesture of surrender. "He just…Thinks you're doing drugs." That needed clarification. "Other than the Vicodin. Or that you will."

"What, does he want some? And I told him. It was antihistamine. " House stood and headed for the door. "So, if I do get some cocaine, do you want some?"

"No. And I believe you."

"Good, cause I don't really wanna share."

"Wilson's just worried about you." _And I am too._ It seemed that would do best left out. His eyes, he knew, said it anyway.

"Nothing to worry about. I'm fine. Cold's gone too." He pulled his jacket from the peg, back to Chase.

Hesitant, Chase slid his hands over his shoulders, stopping him before he reached the door. "I'm glad you're feeling better." He could feel the muscles relax under his hands and he was able to draw breath. Wilson was in enabler, but he couldn't do this. There was a point where he stopped, a point where he stopped being able to look the other way and forced himself to address House's problems head on. Wilson could've never looked and still backed down, but Chase could. Not because he cared less, but because he cared so much it made him afraid of the consequences of that push and pull. More than anything, he didn't want to drive House away. If he was to push something, it would have to be deadly important. Like House not driving drunk. Whether or not he ever started doing hardcore drugs... He'd certainly rather he not but if he did, Chase would deal. He would have to. He had already learned how to do that with his mother and her booze. It wouldn't be that hard to recall.

For the sake of the bigger picture, he could let it go. For that reason, he hoped that with time House would let him get farther, help him more than Wilson ever could. It was a small hope, but with a little nourishment it might could pan out into something bigger. Something more. Something real.

House cast a look back over his shoulder. "Come over tonight. There's a game I wanna watch." Then he was gone.

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FYI, I love that scene where House is cutting the lines on the mirror. Don't ask me why, I have no earthly idea. lol


	19. Humpty Dumpty

I could never thank everyone enough for all the wonderful reviews.

Izzbella91, it's an addiction? Cool. (because that's how House said it.) Or, more like what I would say, that is a wicked awesome compliment. :) Thank you.

Shadows, I see you have an account now! TombedelaLune from now on. ::cheers:: If only I could pronounce that…French? It's a beautiful username.

There's more to life than House. Sometimes I just don't know what it is. But I don't own it.

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_(Humpty Dumpty)_

_Hey, I can be a jerk to people I haven't slept with. I am that good._

True, but he could be a jerk to anyone. The way he treated Cuddy…That was a whole other level.

He wasn't sure why he asked, other than the obvious. The jealousy that had risen fully with Stacy. The nerves. Constant insecurity. He waited to push it further until they were back in the office, alone. In a sense, House was cornered.

"Have you slept with Cuddy?"

House pulled out two rubber bands and began stretching them between two unbent paper clips. "You're not going to let this go are you?"

"Just curious."

"Jealous?"

He didn't really have to answer that, though he gave a vague and obviously ridiculous shake of his head, hair falling over to at least hide his lying eyes.

"Right. " One rubber band slid and flew off to hit the x-ray display. "10 months in college. When I got this job. A year after Stacy. And that's it."

So. Three times. Well, more than three times, but three time periods. He had suspected. "Who…"

"Mutual." House dropped the remaining rubber band and paper clips onto his desk and pulled up his cane. "Don't worry, Wombat. I'm done with her."

His tone was teasing but the words had been welcome. Done with her. At least that was one more thing to rule out. If he was, indeed done with her. Believing that would mean trusting House. It was something he said he did, but the execution of it was a little elusive. He just hoped House didn't know the difference. Trust was important to him. Rather he think he had it, even if he didn't quite yet. With any luck, some day he would.

HHHHHHHHH

Maybe it was twisted, like so many things in his mind were now. A psychologist would have had a field day with it. Analyzed it. He even knew it shouldn't be, but that couldn't stop the truth.

Fighting with Stacy made him think so strongly of sex. Felt like sex, or at least the prelude to it. And that in itself was twisted, brought on he knew by the amount of tension in the last few months of their relationship. They hadn't really fought all that much outright, it had mostly been little things. Tension. Her unhappiness, brought on by guilt. His pride. His pain. All the same, the sex had felt like make-up sex, trying to patch over a hole that was just too big to patch.

Fighting with her brought all that back. This time, he had beaten Cuddy around to his point of view and in doing so had one against Stacy as well. That was a high he could ride for a good few hours.

Until he started dwelling on her. On that sex that his struggle had reminded him of.

_Should have seen the last few months of our relationship.__Lot of guilt.__Lot of screaming._

True. He could still feel her arms around him, hear his name off her lips. Like really good drugs, but the ones with bad side effects. He was feeling those now, standing in the lobby, remembering how she used to share his bed and yet watching her wheel Mark in for physio.

Life truly was a bitch. He tore his eyes away, smoldering and tormented. He was going home early. It didn't matter what Cuddy said. And he was definitely picking up some new alcohol on the way. The past few weeks had pretty much run through his supply.

HHHHHHHHH

_(TB __Or__ Not TB)_

Why was everything suddenly looking like one big looming, legal issue? Chase watched for them now, the close calls. If they pissed this guy off enough, not wanting to test for TB… If they gave him the wrong treatment… Treated him poorly….

So many excuses for legal action. And to think, in the past sometimes he had pushed for court orders. That was before, when the lawyer they would have went to would have been random, unimportant. Now, House would use no other lawyer but Stacy. What bothered Chase the most was that he seemed to be seeking her out. Not that that was unexpected. Just unwelcome.

As famous as this doctor was, in Chase's overworked mind he was a legal issue waiting to happen. He couldn't wait till he was gone.

HHHHHHHHH

Chase found him on the balcony. Alone. That, in itself, was enough to brighten his mood. Good memories. They had had their first kiss out here. He stood gazing down at the parking lot below, and Chase took the spot beside him. "Saw Sebastian kiss Cameron."

House smirked. "She would fall for him. They're perfect. Perfect idiots." He shook his head. "Actually, that isn't true. Cameron's an idiotic idealist, like she thinks he is. He's an idiotic attention hungry bastard."

"Yeah, I didn't like him much either actually."

"Maybe I am teaching you something."

Chase turned and kissed him, almost questioning at first. They hadn't been very close lately. After so much forward motion, it was frustrating. Stacy had halted it, sent everything into reverse. He was lucky when things just stood still. Up here, though… Something in it was his. Theirs. He wanted to push it, see how much House would give. See just how far they were drifting.

It only took a couple more insistent kisses before House was returning them with equal fervor. On a whim, Chase's hands tightened on his collar, shoving him back against the very same will he had kissed Chase against months ago. He was harder, rougher now that he usually was. Something in him was so drastically desperate that House be his and his alone, even if only for a little while. He was damn tired of sharing, even if it was only in House's mind. As far as he knew, he hadn't touched Stacy. Yet. That image sprang unbidden into his mind and he thrust his tongue hard against House's, reveled in the vibration of the answering moan.

He pressed against House, the pressure on his abdomen sending fire through his veins. House's eyes flickered to Wilson's window though he made no move to push Chase away. Still…Chase ground against him, took up a rhythm that would make House forget. Everything, that is, except who he was with. The friction was torturous, a good sort of burn that he continued only until he knew he had his full attention. More than that. Until he knew House _wanted _it, wanted him. One hand between them, he rubbed against the front of House's jeans until bucked against his hand, eyes closed in surrender. Surrender. He rarely got it from him, rarely ever sought to take the lead, but when he did…sometimes, there was nothing better in all the world. House at his mercy. He looked beautiful just then, head back, panting.

Chase kissed his neck, mouthed the skin languidly as he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants to slide his hand in to touch him, first rubbing his thumb over the soft skin just above his groin. That drew an inarticulate impatient noise he was very proud of. Taking him in hand he made his strokes quick and sure, fingers alternately caressing and roughening just the way House loved. The look on his face when he came sent Chase over the edge with him, tremors taking his body strongly enough for his arm to buckle and leave him resting fully against House's shoulder, their rapid heartbeats alternating in his ears.

He kissed House while his breath was still shaky, and the gentle, pleasure-exhausted way House's tongue slid against his was enough to make him never want to stop. This felt like perfection. It felt like love. He knew appearances could be deceiving, knew somewhere down in his consciousness that feelings could similarly lie but he didn't want to think.

He didn't want to remember that everybody lied, because that meant this could be. House could be lying to him, even in his actions now. Those thoughts had no place, not up here. Not on their time. They would come back to haunt him, he knew, probably as soon as he was on his way home. Maybe sooner. Maybe he'd see Stacy on his way out.

Right now, he had enough ammunition in the way House's arm curved passively around his waist to fight off those demons, enough to mutter "I love you." against his lips and not care if he got a response. Right now, it didn't matter. Just so long as for at least a moment, he wasn't sharing House's attention with anyone. Not even Wilson. And, most importantly, not her.

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And…I am tired. Occasionally, sleep really is your friend. I go to call on it.

Almost as much as reviews are.


	20. Daddy's Boy

Chapter 20 milestone! Woohoo!

Hm. Learning about trippy music. Makes me think of House on LSD.

It's Tuesday. I like all of you. And your wonderful reviews.

The show at 9 on FOX tonight? I don't own it.

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_(Daddy's Boy)_

"I can't believe he bought that thing!"

"Really? I can."

"Were you with him?"

"No, actually. Didn't even know about it until this morning." _And thank you, Wilson, for brining that up._

Wilson was pacing, clearly just as worried as he said he was. "He's going to kill himself."

"He could kill himself doing a dozen things he does. "

"Yeah, but the bike can help."

"Just…Leave him alone about it, alright? You shouldn't have given him the money if you didn't want him to do whatever the hell he wanted with it." He snapped, harsher than he intended. His nerves could wear thin just like anyone else's.

Wilson stopped pacing, gave a look with a fair amount of shock. "I…I'm just looking out for him."

"He'll be fine. God knows he needs to have a little fun. The damn thing makes him happy, let him have it." He stalked off without another word. House was in his office, and the look he gave Chase as he walked by beckoned him in. He stuck his head in the door.

"What did Wilson have to say?"

_I'm not a damn carrier pigeon._ "He wants you to give the bike up. Not news. Don't do it."

"Wasn't thinking about it. Wanna take a ride later?"

"…Sure." He smiled and left, not saying what he already knew. He had seen him showing the bike to Stacy that morning when she drove in. She had gotten a ride first. A little thing, a stupid, stupid thing to be mad about but still… It was something in which she had been first.

HHHHHHHHH

"Put it on, I like that pretty hair just the way it is."

Chase caught the helmet tossed at him with both hands, smiling a little. "What about you?"

"Don't you know by now? I'm hard headed."

"Funny." Chase pulled the helmet on, watched House carefully lift his leg over the bike. When he was settled, Chase joined him.

"_You_ were pissy today." House took his arms, pulled them tighter around his waist.

"I'm fine."

"Even Aussies have bad days, huh?"

"Surprisingly enough, we are human too."

"I always suspected."

House pulled him a little closer, as close as possible. There was something so incredibly sexy about it, sitting behind him, legs and arms wrapped around his waist…Chase relaxed against his back, breathed in the scent that was only House mingled with the leather of his jacket.

"Ready?"

"To die? Not quite, still young."

House chuckled and he could feel the vibration of it against his chest. "Sorry, I'm the driver. Hold on."

HHHHHHHHH

"Do you know why House doesn't want to see his parents?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be so curious."

Chase leaned against the doorframe from the outside of Wilson's office, hand on the doorknob. "What are they like?"

Wilson shrugged. "Nice enough people. House's mother seems very…" A pause, searching for words. "I think she wishes things could have gone differently for her son. And she can't keep that out of her voice or her eyes when she talks to him."

"His father?"

"I don't know much about him, except that House won't ever talk to him on the phone. He was in the Marines."

Now, the real question. "Think he'd let me come to dinner?"

"Cameron and Cuddy already want to come. You might as well. Don't ask him. Just come."

Perfect. Cameron. Cuddy. Him. If only Stacy came, it'd be like one of those crazy sitcom scenes. All the love interests trying to meet the family. Except in this case, everyone was more curious about House's upbringing than they were with wanting to win approval.

Maybe if he went he could learn something that would help him help House. He was pretty sure that's what everyone was thinking.

HHHHHHHHH

So, as it had turned out, no dinner with his parents. At least, not a big one. He could tell House had seen them, though, by the look on his face. He was playing his gameboy but he didn't look as relaxed. He looked…Almost apprehensive. Sad. That worried him, and it made him regret even more not meeting them. If it affected House, there had to be something there. There had to be. "Hey."

House didn't look up from his game. "If I win this race, I'll be beating my own record."

"Your parents stop by?"

"Yes."

"And….How are they?"

"Living, breathing, just the same as the last time I saw them." He shut off the game abruptly and tossed it down, clearly anxious to change the thread of conversation. "You wanna go get drunk?"

Chase blinked. "Ah….Sure. Alright. But either I'm driving and you're drinking or we're going to your place because you're not driving that bike drunk."

"Fair enough. My place it is. If I wanted to drink alone, I wouldn't have asked you."

Chase was dying, aching to ask him what had gone wrong. What had been said, what they had done…Maybe it was even just something he had remembered. Whatever it was, Chase craved the information but he couldn't ask. House was in too touchy of a mood.

As it turned out, as the night went out he tipped more toward depressed and away from angry and Chase was grateful he had asked him along. He drank, but he kept it measured. House was too far out to notice that he wasn't _really_ drunk. It was three AM before he helped him to bed.

"I wish he'd just leave me alone." It was mumbled, the words were slurred, but Chase caught it.

"Who? Your dad?"

A slightly clumsy nod.

"What did he…"

"He can never leave anything alone." Chase might as well have not spoken for all House had registered it. He held his breath, hoping against hope that there would be more to follow. There wasn't. Within minutes, House fell asleep.

HHHHHHHHH

_(Spin)_

"Where have you been?"

"Group therapy."

Chase startled and almost fell out of House's chair. "W-What?"

Yes, that was definitely as amusing as he'd been hoping. "Group therapy. For people coping with disability." House dragged another chair up beside the desk and settled into it. "Thought I should get it touch with my inner struggles. All of that."

Chase was eyeing him suspiciously. "Yeah, except the part where you never get in touch with anything. Mark's going."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"No, I know Mark's going. I just didn't remember initially. But that's why you're there, isn't it? Screwing with him?"

"Actually I haven't been screwing with anybody lately though I've had a couple of close calls…You know about those…And besides, he's not my type."

"Uh-huh." Chase looked away. "This is just a play for Stacy's attention."

"Hope she won't see through it as easily as you do. Maybe I'm just trying to piss her husband off."

"Maybe you can do both at once."

"Yes, that is the general idea."

Chase sighed and House poked him with his cane.

"Come on, Wombat, cheer up. You might get to hear Stacy really scream if this backfires." But that wasn't what he wanted, and Chase knew it. This was going somewhere new…House just wasn't exactly sure where that was. Or if it was even a place he wanted to go.

HHHHHHHHH

_The following morning_

Chase hadn't been late to work in ages. At least, not late alone. He had been up late the night before, mind too active to sleep. He had lost 7 pounds in the past two weeks alone. He just wasn't hungry. He could feel with an increasing since of dread that there was a fork ahead in the road. Chase and Stacy. House would have to choose one.

More than anything else, he dreaded that decision. If it wasn't him…

He told himself it was wrong, that he loved House more than she ever could. House couldn't choose her. He would have to see that.

Except that House never had to do anything. And Stacy was getting strangely more receptive, at least to Chase's eyes. None of that meant anything good for him.

So, when he came in at 10, he should have taken it as another bad sign that House hardly noticed.

HHHHHHHHH

_The following evening_

_I can't stop thinking about Greg House._

It was right there in the file before him. She couldn't stop thinking about him. Him. Not Mark. And…There was trouble with Mark. Distance, no sex…Even at their worst, they had still been having sex.

She couldn't stop thinking about him. That meant he had a chance.

_I hate you. And I love you. _

The last part, the part about Mark…He could throw that out. Hearing her say she loved him again…God, that was priceless.

"New patient?"

He hadn't even heard Chase walk in. "No." He tried to cover the file, but Chase was quicker than that.

"Stacy."

No sense in answering that one. He had already guessed it.

"And I'm assuming that's not medical, because you know her medical history and she's not sick."

"She could be."

"You would have said something. It's not medical."

"In the strictest sense-"

"You took her psych file? That's a stretch, even for you."

House toyed with a frayed edge of the folder. "I had my reasons."

"Such as?"

"She said she loved me." He didn't look at Chase then. There was no need to see the look on his face when he said that. It would have been pitiful, and then he would have had to feel bad. But right now, he had someone to talk to.

"And the folder?" His voice was strained, but it was to his credit that he had kept talking.

"She can't stop thinking about me. And she's not having sex with Mark."

"So she wants you."

"Seems that way."

Chase backed away from the desk, stepped back to study everything from the walls to the floor.

"Hey…" Sensing danger, House stood and went to his side, hands rubbing his shoulders gently. "Come here." Chase let him kiss him but he didn't respond, something he took as the very bad omen he knew it was. "Chase…"

Chase shook his head, pulled away from House's grasp. "You have to choose, House." His voice was a pained whisper, though strong. "You can't have both."

House swallowed hard. "That's funny, because I've been working on both, and you haven't said a damn thing."

"I can't…" His hands shook a little but he shoved them in his pockets and out of House's view. "I can't do this. I can't. Sharing you it's….I can't. It's too hard."

"Chase, wait-" He reached for him again only to have Chase twist out of the way.

"I told you, I can't. I just can't."

"Rob…" He had never said it before but it didn't taste as foreign as it could have. Unfortunately, it had no effect. He left anyway.

House sank into the nearest chair, slow. He felt numb. Everything felt numb. He pulled out his bottle and popped two Vicodin, then added a third for good measure. His face fell into his hands, and it was a moment before he realized his hands were shaking too.

Wilson's voice came back to him.

_Do you think this is going to end well, for anyone?_

_No. No. But it can't end like this._

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Alright. I'm ready for you all to kill me. Go ahead. ::hides behind adorable lab puppy:: Ha, you wouldn't hit a puppy would you? ;)

I think God thought up reviews at the same time he came up with candy, puppies, and sunshine.


	21. You Can't Always Get What You Want

The reviews on this one pretty much overwhelmed me with joy on a day that wasn't going so hot, so I really want you all to know just how much you're appreciated. ::hands out warm brownies::

Izzbella91, that's exactly what I was wanting to show, exactly how House is in my head. He pushes on and does things then later after it's already done realizes he just might have dug himself into a hole. Ah, House. Gotta love him. And I'm so happy you thought this was realistic.

Nikelodean, the comment about totally hitting the puppy had me laughing for awhile. And the fact that you think I did this perfectly is going to be echoing in my head for awhile. :)

Black-Dranzer-1119, not killing me is good. It's hard to write while you're dead(though I suppose I could find a way….). The hostage is actually full grown(I shrink rayed her back to puppy size to borrow…lol)and wagged her tail at the mention of being used as a hostage. I think as long as she's being touched she's ok with anything. lol

Ok, on to the story before you kill me and maybe later I'll reply to you all individually when I have some more time. Overall, guys, I still have warm fuzzies from all your reviews. Thank you.

Right. Getting down to business. I don't own House.

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In the span of time it had taken for Wilson to drive home, House had called five times. Damn. He gave a heavy sigh, grip tightening on his phone. He wasn't sure what was going on, but apparently it required his immediate attention. No sense putting it off. He might as well go ahead and call back. No answer at the office. No answer on the cell. He was pretty sure his home phone was unplugged. Great.

Now he had to think about his options. Inside, Julie probably had dinner waiting.

House was upset. Clearly, very upset. He could be doing nothing, he could be drinking. He could be doing something drastic.

It only took him a minute to make up his mind. He turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the driveway, hoping that by some miracle Julie wouldn't have seen him drive up and leave again.

HHHHHHHHH

"House." A louder knock. "House, it's me. I'm sorry I missed your calls, alright, I was driving and I didn't hear the phone." Two more knocks. "House, come on, I'm worried about you." With a sigh he reached up and pulled down the key from over the doorframe.

House sat on the sofa, his back to the door, hunched over the table.

"House?"

He didn't look up, didn't move and Wilson panicked just enough to get him to his side quickly. He was staring at a half empty bottle of scotch.

"How…Long have you been home?"

House shrugged then.

"And that was new when you got home?"

House took a long drink. "I assumed that was what the seal on the top meant. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was half full when I got started. But if that was true, then what have I been drinking?"

Wilson sighed. "What the hell happened?"

"Stacy said she loves me."

Wilson settled back into the cushions of the couch. "Isn't that.. .What you've wanted?"

"Mmmhmm."

"So….Shouldn't we be celebrating?"

House took another drink. "Chase left." He said it offhand, but the look in his eyes wasn't. Wilson fought the urge to swear loudly and instead waited to see if House would say any more. "Said…He couldn't share me with her because it hurt."

"I'm…Sure it did." Wilson wasn't quite sure how he needed to go about this. It was impossible when he didn't even know what House wanted.

House drained the bottle down to being ¼ full.

"House…If you want to be with Chase, I'm sure he would have-"

"Told me I have to choose."

A demand he hadn't expected from Chase, but one that Wilson knew most people would have made quite a bit sooner. "So you haven't lost him. House, if you love him-"

"I never said-"

"IF you love him, then you choose him."

Silence. For at least 5 minutes, probably longer. Wilson hated this part, the sitting waiting for House to think. And the more drunk he got, the longer it would take. And the more Julie would yell when he got home. But he couldn't leave.

"I can't choose."

"Because you love them both."

Only someone accustomed to House could have seen the millimeter nod he gave then.

"House, you can't be in love with two people. It's either one or the other, you can't choose both."

House laughed, harsh and cold. "That's rich, coming from you. You love every woman who gives you a sad story and says she needs a friend. You love them all, I'd say you're IN love with them all at the rate you marry them and the even more incredible rate you try and fix them."

Wilson tensed. "Can we please just stay on the subject? We were talking about you." Now was not the time for a lecture on his relationships. He was sacrificing his current one to be right where he was at the moment. If House went to lecturing him, he might snap and he didn't want to fight. Not when House was already this depressed.

"It was related to me. You can't say what I can or can't do when you-"

"Fine! Point is, you can't be in a relationship with two people! Life doesn't work that way, House, and on this one you just can't bend the rules. They're pretty clear."

"I know that." His voice was soft, as any concession of defeat on House's part always was. "I just don't know."

"Don't know because Stacy has been your love and you just can't let her go or don't know because she still is but you've recently had feelings for Chase so you aren't sure? You love one of them more, subconsciously, you're just not acknowledging who it is."

House took another long drink. "I don't want to talk about it."

"House…"

"Really. I don't want to talk about it."

Wilson rubbed his eyes, fought enough of the frustration off not to yell. "Why am I here then? What do you want?"

"I want you… I just want…" He couldn't say it, but the look in his eyes was pleading enough that Wilson understood.

"You just want me here."

House nodded gratefully, looking away and at the bottle on the table.

"Alright." Wilson knew he might as well be signing his own divorce papers already. "If you need me here, I'll stay. Just let me go call Julie. Tell I have to work all night." True, in a way. Taking care of House was a job in itself.

As he stood to walk outside, he saw House finish off the bottle. And head to the kitchen for another. As hard as this was hitting, Wilson couldn't help but wonder if Chase _had_ managed to take over as the love of House's life. If so, he could be making another big mistake…

HHHHHHHHH

**You left him.**

He had been expecting Wilson to say something. Actually seeing the words like that, clear and accusatory, it sounded much worse. Almost as bad as he felt. Did Wilson seriously think he had wanted this?

**He was going to choose her. He is going to choose her.**

**You know that for a fact? I'm with him.** Something about that didn't sound good.

**Is he alright?**

**Define alright.** "Fuck." Chase bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. At the moment, it had all hurt too much, the thought of watching House actually choose her… He hadn't been thinking of what his leaving might do to House.

**Cut the guilt trip, is he alright?**

It took Wilson longer than normal to respond and Chase had never realized just how quiet an empty room could get, or how loud of a sound a cell phone made vibrating on a wooden table. **He's ****already finished off a bottle of scotch, starting on his next. He says he doesn't want to talk about it. **

He wanted to say a million things, all of which he was sure Wilson already knew. Don't let him hurt himself. Don't let him drink too much. Once he is drunk, help him up because he'll actually let you and he can't maneuver the cane well on his own. The other things Wilson couldn't do, like massaging his leg or holding him while he slept. Kissing him when he looked too worried. Wilson couldn't do any of that. Unsure of what to say he finally said only **I love him. **and turned off his phone. It was the only thing he was sure about.

He had sworn when he was younger to never use alcohol as an escape like his mother had but being around House had dulled that resolve. House took alcohol like some people took Tylenol or Nyquil after a bad day. Self medication. Chase searched his cabinets and found a bottle of Jack Daniel's from the last time House had stayed over at his apartment. If he drank enough, he might could forget the look on House's face when he had walked away.

HHHHHHHHH

_The following morning_

His pager went off after he had only been in the building about 10 minutes. **Exam Room 2.** House. He knew it without even looking at the number. He hesitated, but went anyway. He told himself that he went just in case it was medical. An easy lie. He knew it wasn't.

House shut the door behind him. "Brought you breakfast." His tone was somewhere between rough and nervous. He looked like he hadn't slept at all.

"I…Thanks." Not that he was hungry. But he knew that wasn't the point. Bagel and Starbucks. Both his favorites. Nice, and normally he would have wondered if the world was coming to an end. It seemed House could put out some effort when he was afraid. Interesting.

House tapped his cane on the floor, no particular rhythm. "Can we talk?"

Chase turned away and toward the counter, looking down at the coffee cup as if it could direct him. "Sure."

"I don't…Want this." He had stepped up closer behind him. "I didn't want you to leave."

That sounded good, but it wasn't quite what he wanted to hear. Not yet at least. He felt House's hands on his hips and his heart rate tripled, feeling close to beating out of his chest. One touch, and he could do that to him. Chase closed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

House molded against him from behind, left arm tightening around his waist, right moving up to brush his hand against his cheek. "I'm sorry."

An 'I'm sorry' from House… That was almost enough. It felt good enough. Or maybe his head was going fuzzy from the way House's lips were teasing him, just barely brushing his cheek. He wanted to say it was alright, to turn around and kiss him and pin him to the exam room table to keep kissing him until they both couldn't breathe. What he did say was forced out, more from his head than his heart. "Did you choose?" House stiffened and Chase's hopes sank. Really, he had already known the answer. He just didn't want it confirmed.

"I can't." His whisper was soft, almost pleading, his breath warm against the corner of Chase's lips. "Not yet." He moved to close the hairbreadths distance between their lips but Chase turned his head.

"Then…I have to go." He pulled away, registering the way House only reluctantly eased his grip. He took his breakfast and left without looking back. The hurt he knew he'd see in those beautiful eyes would have been more than his resolve could bear.

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Poor Chase. Poor House. Even poor Wilson, a little bit. No one's happy right now.

And, as some of you pointed out, next is Hunting…and we all know what happens there…


	22. Hunting

Right. Hunting. Unhappy things must happen.

Definitely don't own House…

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_(Hunting)_

House sat on the edge of the examination table, cane tapping absently. He had tried, and it had failed. He wasn't sure if he had expected anything else. Feeling Chase against him had felt good. Familiar and enticing all at once. And painful, considering that his chances of doing it again anytime soon, _Or __ever_(he pushed that thought away), seemed slim to none.

The silence was deafening, and he had left his TV up in the office. He had to get out of here, and it would be really unlikely he could manage that without Cuddy grabbing him. Especially considering his supposed 'assault' on AIDS guy.

Even the thought of being found by Cuddy didn't bother him all that much. At the moment, he felt like nothing did.

HHHHHHHHH

"Where's House?" Whatever issues they were having, work had to go on. And they were supposedly treating the AIDS patient, but House hadn't been back to give any direction.

Foreman flipped through a copy of the file. "I heard he went to see Stacy."

"Right." Chase got up, thinking it wouldn't hurt to head in that direction.

"At home."

Chase froze. It was a moment before he remembered to breathe. If he hadn't have known better, he would have said his heart stopped.

"It's none of my business but are you two-"

"You're right, it's none of your damn business." He crossed into House's office, shutting the door behind him and drawing the blinds. He was with Stacy. At home. He had seemed so sincere earlier, but maybe he wasn't at all. Maybe none of it was sincere.

He was behind House's desk, staring out the window and when his hand fell it fell on the Magic 8 Ball.

Halfheartedly he rolled it over. _Signs point to yes._

Considering he had been thinking House was probably having sex with Stacy, he strongly considered throwing it off the balcony.

HHHHHHHHH

_Two days later_

Laying there with Stacy on the floor of the attic had felt like old times. They had talked easily, even about the hard things. He had even apologized, and so had she. It felt good. It felt like progress, or maybe just movement back to where they had been before the infarction. Was it even possible to go back that far? Could they ever have things the way there were again?

No way to be sure, but it had felt like that's where things we headed. He had even been so close to kissing her. Stupid rat. Well. Not so much that he hated it.

Steve snuffled softly at his hand, nuzzling under his thumb to sniff at his t-shirt. Absently, House stroked his back. He _was _cute. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone out loud.

All in all….Progress with Stacy. He should have been happy. Except for Steve's occasional squeak, the apartment was silent and empty. His had hovered over his phone for a good few minutes before he decided Chase wouldn't answer. He put Steve up and went to the piano. It's not like he would get any sleep by pretending to go to bed.

HHHHHHHHH

3 AM. Cameron had passed out about a half hour ago, but he had been collecting his thoughts before he left. There didn't seem to be many of them to collect. He left quietly.

He had left his phone in the car, and he flipped it open with more than a little anticipation. Quickly dashed. House hadn't texted, hadn't called…Hadn't thought about him at all, apparently. He, on the other hand, felt sick. Chase leaned forward, rested his head against one hand on the steering wheel. He hadn't come over here for sex, really he hadn't. Just the drink. But she had started it, and he had thought 'What the hell'. It had nothing to do with her, though she was beautiful and, most of the time, they got along. It had everything to do with House, and the images he couldn't rid himself of of House in Stacy's arms.

He had wanted to stop thinking. He had wanted to make House think. This had given him the opportunity to do both, but he realized now that it was just a repeat of a classic mistake. Never, ever, have sex when your reason is someone else not involved in the sex. That never ended well.

He licked his lips and tasted a mix of Cameron and alcohol and something he knew was the drugs, though he had never tried them before. The alcohol reminded him of House, of the way House tasted mixed with his usual scotch. That brought to mind the way House kissed when he was drunk, slow and deliberate, tongue searching out every inch of Chase's mouth, gliding sensuously with his own. With Cameron, he had kept the kisses to a minimum. Stuck to the sex. He loved kissing House. He loved the way House kissed. Whether gentle or rough, one kiss with him was more intimate, more real, more…effecting then the sex he had just had.

Something about that was so profoundly depressing that he hated himself for it. He wanted to hate House for pushing him to it but that wasn't true. His actions were his own. And besides that…He could have never hated House for anything. Not even this.

HHHHHHHHH

Wilson knew something was wrong when House slammed the door behind him when he came in. "Ah….Everything alright?"

"Perfect. Patient's dad says he killed his mother. That's fun to watch."

"Uh-huh. Well I'm sure the door is sorry it missed it but-"

"Chase had sex with Cameron."

That one he hadn't been expecting. "He…What??"

"You heard me." It was said with an air of 'don't make me say that again.' that made Wilson wince internally.

"Oh boy. I...Can't believe he did that."

"_You_ can't believe it?"

"Right. Sorry." House was staring pointedly out the window. "Honestly, House I'm….God, I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about."

"Right."

His cane tapped against the wood of the desk. "Why?" It was just barely a question, more of a dead pan statement.

"Maybe to get your attention."

House glared. "Yeah. Perfect. Paying real good attention now."

"Maybe to make you jealous…"

"Hm." And he was, so obviously jealous that Wilson wondered if maybe Chase hadn't done a good thing and forced him to realize just how deeply he did care. Or maybe not. On the other side of the coin…He could have just hurt House enough to push him back. That would complicate things, to say the least. "I didn't…I wasn't choosing Stacy."

"Were you not?"

"I would have definitely kissed her last night, though, if the damn rat hadn't interrupted."

"And you would have slept with her." That definitely wasn't a question. He knew that House would have leapt at the chance.

"That wasn't up for discussion."

Wilson took a deep breath. "House, listen. There are…Consequences for your actions. You pushed Chase away in favor of Stacy. He's hurt, he's upset. People do stupid things. God know, you do more than your share. Like, the share of half the population of Princeton."

House met his gaze, eyes full of seriousness with well hidden pain. "There's consequences for his actions too."

HHHHHHHHH

Chase walked in to the office to the sound of music blaring. The Animals.

_There is a house in New Orleans_

"House."

He turned the music up.

_They call the Rising Sun._

"_House._" Chase found the button on the iPod and paused it, earning him a glare. "Just because we're not…" He wasn't sure how to say it. "I brought you dinner. You haven't eaten all day." House didn't reach out to take it, so he just dropped it on the desk.

No response.

"What is it?" He already knew.

"Why?" He didn't have to clarify any more than that.

"Because…Because I was there. And she started it."

"Lame excuse."

"True, though."

"Yes, I know how much stronger Cameron is. I'm sure you tried to fight her off but were powerless and gave in."

"It…She did start it." That still sounded pathetic, even to his own ears. He felt sick, and progressively sicker with himself and frustrated with life in general. "We're not even together, you have no right to be mad!"

House spun his chair to face farther away. "Right. Sorry. Your life."

"You had sex with Stacy!" That was a stretch, but he was hoping it was true.

"Five years ago? Yes. Good sex too. Recently? Not so much. Thought we might."

That was a dig that Chase knew was aimed well, and it certainly found its mark. "I'm sorry." It was whispered as light as his voice would carry, the agony in it clear. "I'm so sorry."

"For what? I guess you're right. I have no right to be mad." Pulling his cane into his hand he limped around the desk and to the door without once looking at Chase.

He considered calling after him, even considered trying what House had on him and seeing if his name wouldn't stop him. He knew it wouldn't, so in the end he said nothing, waited until he was gone before sinking back into his still warm chair. He turned his head to the window. The chair still smelled like House. "Greg…" He tested it out, learned how it felt. It would have felt good, he thought, if not for everything else. He felt dirty. He felt heavy. He felt poisoned. And he had brought it all on himself.

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Painful chapter all around. Damn Cameron and her drug experimentation. ::sigh::

You definitely wouldn't have gotten this chapter now, except that my friend that was supposed to get online to talk to me didn't show up so I wrote instead. :( Ah well. I love writing.

Oh yes, and House of the Rising Sun is by The Animals and doesn't belong to me either. But it is one of my favorite songs. :)


	23. The Mistake

I know this depressing lately(not saying this one's going to be more cheerful, just saying)thanks to everyone for hanging in there. :)

And thank you all for the wonderful reviews.

Ok, up until this point, nothing(much) had been AU…and I hate to say this now, but researching this chapter I realized that the stuff with Chase's dad actually dying happened about 3 months previous to this, so I should have worked it in before but I didn't realize that so…just suspend belief and let the woman die of liver rejection(instead of having three months) in the span of a few days. Stupid me, not thinking ahead. Sorry.

House isn't mine(dammit).

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_(The Mistake)_

They hadn't even talked about it, and that, for Chase, was what made everything so much worse. Now, it was like nothing had ever happened. House avoided him, definitely avoided being alone with him. He didn't make things any better. Honestly, he didn't know how. He still carried the guilt for what he had done, and in all honesty he felt House had more than enough reason to be mad. Even if he was messing around with Stacy. Especially if he wasn't.

And now…

He had gotten a phone call an hour ago. His father, dead. Lung cancer. Impossible. It felt impossible. He hadn't even looked sick. He pushed open the door to the office, collapsed in the chair without once looking up. "House…" He felt drained.

"What?" Snappy. He should have known.

Still, he couldn't help but think if he really needed him… "House, I…"

Silence.

"Nevermind." He left, and House didn't say anything.

HHHHHHHHH

_That afternoon_

"Mistakes are as dangerous as the results they cause! This woman might die because you were too lazy to ask one simple question!"

"She might die because I had the bad luck to spill your damn Vicodin pills!" Chase stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "Or just because you're pissed off at me. That's why you gave me the exam, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Nothing to do with the pills."

"It has everything to do with all of it! Both, whatever, you're just-"

"What, angry? Yeah, I'm angry." And he looked it now, and Chase almost wished he hadn't pushed him. Almost. But fighting about it was better than not talking. And fighting took his mind off the other things that had happened today. "You want to fight about this? Fine. We'll fight about it. Where the hell do you come off being so self righteous about Stacy after what you did?"

"I…That was before!"

"So it's ok for you but not for me? What, because you're so dammed perfect you're the only one who could possibly be affected by anything?"

"I…No." Dejected, his misdirected anger vanishing, Chase stepped back. "No. it was just as bad."

"Worse. You don't give a damn about her."

Chase swallowed. "No. I don't."

House shook his head and looked away, something between fury and pain in his eyes that was strong enough to make Chase really wish he hadn't started this. "Fuck. I don't care. I don't care what you do. Do whoever the hell you want. But this? No matter the reasons, this is your fault. She dies, and you killed her." With that, he left.

HHHHHHHHH

Wilson found him on the balcony, smoking. A well placed bottle of scotch sat at his elbow.

"Better not let Cuddy see that."

He grunted dismissively.

"I hear you have a patient in surgery."

"Chase's patient. That he could have just killed."

Wilson stepped over to the wall that separated them, considered climbing over. "You two need to talk."

House's laugh was cold enough to give him pause. "We just did."

"And…"

"Fuck off. It's…Just go."

When he was like this, talking to him was useless. Shaking his head, Wilson returned to his office.

HHHHHHHHH

_I was hung-over._

_I just wanted to get the hell out of there._

The second part was true, just not the first. But it had achieved the desired effect. He wanted Sam to sue him, wanted it so badly because he had caused this. He had taken her life, as surely as if he had killed her himself. He deserved some sort of consequences. He deserved to be punished. For that, and for other things. But House was already punishing him for those.

And now, it seemed God was punishing him again. Spending the whole day with Stacy. It had to be some sort of vindictive cosmic payback. She was mad at House, granted, but their fight didn't seem as bad as his and House's fight. Quite.

In fact, as far as he knew they were talking now. About him. Knowing how angry House was, he definitely wouldn't put it past him to tell Stacy it was all his fault.

At this point, he wasn't even sure how surprised he would be if he got fired. What was surprising was how little he cared.

HHHHHHHHH

_If Chase screwed up so bad why didn't you fire him?_

_He has great hair._

_What are you hiding?_

_I'm gay. Oh, not what you meant. __Does explain a lot though._

It was half true. It was at least where Chase was concerned. Telling her, even in a joke felt strange. Even stranger because he knew she wouldn't believe it unless she saw it. A bit of the humor was taken out of it, though, by the fact that right now…Right now, everything was insane. And Chase had betrayed him. Just like everyone did. _Everybody lies. Why the hell does that shock you? It shouldn't._ He should have known. Chase was just like everyone else.

He couldn't be trusted. Lying to himself, House could say he had never wanted to trust him. Such an obvious lie that he couldn't even believe it for a minute, though he might could have fooled someone else. Other than Wilson.

It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for on Google. Australian obituraries. Brisbane. Rowan Alexander Chase. The date fit. Well. He was right.

House wasn't sure how long he stared at the screen before he just turned the computer off.

HHHHHHHHH

"You were depressed and distracted. I assumed you'd gotten a phone call from your stepmom. Good news is, both your parents are dead now. No reason to screw up this bad again."

"How'd you know?"

"There's this interconnected network of computers, or interweb where you can-"

"How did you know to look?" He was pretty sure he knew the answer, so sure that his skin already felt 10 degrees colder. He both had to hear it and would have given anything not to. Because he had to be right. And if he was right, that meant House had….

House sighed. "When he visited, he told me he only had two months left to live. When you screwed up , I did the math."

House had known. Known, and not told him. "Why didn't you tell me he was dying?"

"He asked me not to."

"So you just hung me out there to be blindsided?" _No. No please let that not be the truth._

"Yeah Chase, it was all my fault. Look, you got a choice. You can either tell the truth, hospital settles, family gets some money, they get to keep their house. Or you can keep up this lie, family gets punitive damages, they buy a jet, they move to Park Avenue, and you have to find another career."

"You're not going to say anything?"

"I'm going to keep my mouth shut. Legally, it's better for me if you go down in flames."

"Legally." His voice had never been that cold with House. As far as he could remember.

House cut his eyes to the side, obviously checking for Cuddy or Stacy before he stepped in closer. "He asked me not tell you."

"I don't care. I thought…" He shook his head. "I thought I would have meant more to you than your word to him. Since when has lying to someone bothered you? It obviously didn't bother you to lie to me." He stepped back.

"I almost told you. The day he left."

Chase remembered back, could faintly remember talking to House in his office. What he remembered most about that day had happened later. The conversation was a little fuzzy. "But you didn't."

"Chase-"

"I could have gone to see him. I could have….We might could have talked, worked something out."

House looked away. "You had learned how to deal. How…Not to care. I knew he would try to get you to forgive him, and I knew how much reopening all those old wounds would hurt. I didn't want to do that." When he looked back his eyes were crystal clear, sincere in a way that showed he meant what he said.

Chase felt too betrayed to care. "That doesn't mean anything. I would have wanted to know." Chase held his gaze, tried to convey in it everything he felt. Every way this hurt. "I would have told you."

"I'm sorry." It was soft, and before he would have loved it. Would have stepped forward and touched him, told him it was alright.

"He's dead. The fact that you're sorry doesn't change a damn thing."

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::sigh:: The road to hell is paved with good intentions. That is such a true statement.

Eventually, I swear, there will be the end of a chapter that isn't depressing as hell. This, however, is not it.


	24. The Lord's Prayer

I swear, writing this, I would love to give Chase a big hug. And House. It's just natural response. lol

I am not the owner of House. The things I own are all much fuzzier. Or scalier.

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_Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by Thy name…_

It had been a long time since he had been in a church, but the prayers came back to him as easily as he had known them in his youth. They were always there, waiting to be called on. He needed them now. His father was dead. House had known. It was all too much.

_Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven…_

How could it be God's will that his father treat him like crap? Further, how could it be His will that they never even work it out? That seemed more like cruelty than anything. Or maybe it wasn't God's will. Maybe House screwed it up. House. Another issue entirely. Maybe God was angry at him. Any priest would have had him doing penance for days over his feelings for House. But love? Why was love an issue? The fighting they were doing now, granted, was far from holy or healthy but before…

_Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespassed against us…_

Could he forgive House for this? Honestly, could House ever forgive him? If House did come around, could he ever trust that he had really chosen Chase over Stacy? There was so much now, so many complications piled one on top of the other. They never even finished working on one before the next was added. It wasn't Chase's fault, it wasn't House's fault…They shared the blame. And apparently, neither knew how to even begin to set things right.

_And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…_

Temptation. Cameron. He had walked right into that, eyes open. It would have been what his old Father Stranton would have called turning a blind eye to sin. Knowing, and doing it anyway. God hadn't kept him from that temptation. God had brought Stacy right back into their lives, more of a temptation for House than anything else could have ever been. Maybe they weren't supposed to be together. Maybe love was irrelevant. It didn't feel like it should be. After all, the Word said God was Love.

_The Kingdom a__nd the Power and the Glory are __Y__ours__, now and forever. Amen._

He didn't really feel any better, only more lost. He hadn't been ready for his father to die. Not like this. He couldn't say he would miss him, but he would certainly miss the idea. The knowledge that somewhere out there he had a father, and that someday against all odds they could be father and son again. Like they had when he was little. He had good memories of his dad then.

Even if it hurt, he wished he would have had the chance to go to him, to tell him he loved him. It was true. No matter how much loving him hurt, he had always done it. It might have hurt him more to try and work things out, but it would have…It would have meant they hadn't parted like this. Strangers.

He couldn't even be properly angry at House. He was, certainly, but there was too much pain involved. He had said he hadn't told Chase to spare him pain. Chase wasn't even sure if that was true. He wasn't sure what House said that he could believe anymore, but he wanted it to be true. If it was true, then House had done what he had done out of feelings for him and not out of lack of effort or amusement at his misfortune.

House had apologized. Seemed honestly sorry, painfully sorry. If he was…It could have been an opening. A way for them to start talking again. And he had slammed that door shut in his face, thrown the apology back at him like it meant nothing. That was far from the truth. It meant something, even if it didn't change anything. He wished, now, that House knew that. He knew the window of opportunity was gone, even now House was shutting down again. If he went to him, he'd get the cold bastard routine. That was something he didn't want to see.

The terrible truth that he could have never spoken lie in the fact that no matter how much his father's death hurt him, and it hurt like hell, the thought of losing House hurt more. He could feel the rift between them growing every day now, with no visible way to bridge the distance. After everything he had lost in his life, losing House felt like it would be the last. The last thing he could take and still believe that life could be anything but pain.

_Lord, if you're still listening, please…I love him…I'm sorry_

He added it, in case, but he knew that God could see through lies. If his love for House was wrong, he wasn't sorry. He couldn't regret it. He just hoped that God wasn't punishing him for it, that he would still listen. He shut his eyes tighter, felt hot tears squeeze from them. There were a hundred things he could have said, how sorry he was for his actions, toward House and for his grudge against his father, how he longed for House to forgive him, to love him, to do something, anything, that showed he chose him over Stacy. To even speak to him. For something, even one little thing, to be like it had been before. Or better.

He couldn't say any of it. The only coherent word he could form was _Please. _He remembered a passage that spoke of God knowing what was on your heart even if you couldn't put it into words. He had never hoped more fervently that that was the case.

HHHHHHHHH

"Going in?"

House held up a hand to stop him, silence him. He leaned against the propped half open chapel door, eyes never wavering from the front row where Chase sat.

Wilson eased quietly up beside House, watching with interest but less intensity. Chase was crying. "House…"

House shook his head.

Wilson dropped his voice to the lowest possible whisper. "House, he needs you. Go in there."

Firmly, House shook his head. "No. He doesn't want me." Turning, House began to limp quickly away. Even so, he could have never outrun anyone, much less a determined Wilson.

"Bullshit. He needs you!"

Annoyed, House spun on him. "Yeah? This is my fault. He didn't get to see his dying father for the last time because of me. So don't pretend I can make it all better. I' m the last person he wants to see right now."

"House, he loves you. He'll forgive you. Have you even tried?"

"Go talk to him. You're good at that. He'll probably thank you." He tried to leave again, but Wilson grabbed his arm.

"House, have you even looked at him lately?"

"Isn't that what I was just doing?"

"No, I mean it. He looks terrible. He looks exhausted, he's lost weight, he's-"

"Not my problem."

"House."

"The less I try to help him, the better off he'll be." He pulled away and Wilson let him go, at a loss. He knew House was wrong, but he didn't have the faintest idea how to go about convincing him. He looked in on Chase again before he left. He did toy with idea of going in, but something about it seemed so personal and so…Not his place. He needed someone, certainly, but that someone wasn't him. He was frustrated, tired and so worn out from dealing with House's issues. Feeling defeated, he left.

HHHHHHHHH

He wasn't sure, initially, what changed his mind. He would have never admitted it was anything Wilson said, and maybe it was or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was something else entirely.

Wilson was right. Chase…didn't look good. He called, first twice, then 8 times. He didn't answer once, on any phone. He'd just check on him, make sure he was alright, then leave him alone. Maybe get yelled at in the process. But on the off chance that something was wrong…

It was 2:30 AM when he pulled up. Chase's car was there. Definitely home. _Unless he went out with Cameron_.

He was starting to wonder if that was the case when he didn't get an answer to his knocks at the door, but curiosity always got the better of him. Just because he wasn't usually the one breaking in didn't mean he couldn't pick a lock. Foreman might have been the car thief but he had grown up a military brat. The most successful sneaks never did get caught.

The TV was on, on mute. MTV. And Chase…Asleep. With two empty bottles on the table. He weighed his options. "Chase." He didn't stir. He moved into the room, leaned over the back of the couch. "Hey, Chase, wake up." Nothing. He came around in front, shook him with what he knew should have been enough force to wake him. "_Chase_." He stirred a little then, mumbled something unintelligible. He grabbed his wrist. Slow pulse. Shit. He hauled on his collar, pulled him up a little higher on the couch and shook him again. "Chase, come on."

His eyes cracked open, barely. "Stop…"

"Uh-uh, sorry. You don't get to call the shots right now. Come on, wake up." No such luck. He was already drifting back out of consciousness. "Alright, that's it." He was out of chances. He had to throw up, get some of that out of him. Or he had to go the hospital. Maybe both. It would have been best to get him to the bathroom but there was no way he could carry him. Damn leg. He made a quick trip to the bathroom and came back with a garbage can, shoving it against the couch and pulling Chase to move to the edge.

He resisted, faintly. "No…" and something else that could have been his name but didn't make much sense.

"Yeah, well, I'm not thrilled about sticking my hand down your throat either but it's preferable to dead."

Determined, House forced him into gagging then held his head steady as he vomited into the trash can, his whole body trembling. His other hand rubbed Chase's back soothingly, registering every tremor. Stupid idiot. And that, accordingly, was the first thing he said when Chase stopped. "You idiot. Your mother died an alcoholic and you still don't know that it can kill you?"

Chase's breathing was heavy but steadier, eyes open now. He didn't respond.

House had the fleeting thought that maybe he _had_ known what he was doing but he quelled it quickly. Whatever the truth was, it was nothing he wanted to think about.

After a few moments, Chase seemed a little more stable. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life, apparently."

"I'd have been-"

"Fine. Right." Like hell.

He waited until Chase drifted back off to sleep, still under the influence but less dangerously so. He had thought, at first, of calling Cuddy and bringing him into the hospital anyway but it would cause a whole list of problems and he was a doctor himself after all. Chase seemed like he was going to be alright. His pulse, when he checked it again, was no longer frightening. Which meant House could breathe. He had hardly realized until then how tense he had been, until he felt that pulse reassuringly steady under his fingers. Stupid, stupid idiot. A strand of blond hair hung over Chase's eyes and he brushed it back, hand lingering a little longer than it should have. In his sleep, Chase sighed under the touch.

Still. The first thing he had asked had been _What__ are you doing here?_

He had been right when he told Wilson Chase didn't want or need him. He seemed stable. It was time to go. Even if he didn't want to. With any luck, Chase would forget he had been here.

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Well, it's healthy for House to be scared every now and then. Now if only they could have an actual conversation….

But you know, Failure To Communicate is coming up(ironic title, all things considered). And Need To Know. Yeah…Stacy will re-takeover the spot from Cameron of most hated, I predict.


	25. Deception

Thank you so much for the reviews(and I'm sure poor Chase appreciated the hugs).

Sorry for the delay in updating. I didn't get the time this weekend I'd thought I'd have, then yesterday I have no excuse except that I was really really tired(still tired today actually, but I have to be on campus and I'm doing nothing for an hour and a half…after this I am so going back to bed.)so I just went to bed last night instead of finishing this chapter…grr.

Nope. Don't own House.

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He didn't know how he wanted to say what he had to say, but now that he was there, the simplest seemed best. "Thanks."

House almost looked up. "For what? I seem to remember you saying you'd be fine."

Chase looked down, more than a little sheepish.

"You're welcome." A pause while he turned the page on his newspaper. "Bet you've got a bitch of a headache."

Chase nodded, slowly.

"You could sleep in the lounge, but you didn't hear it from me."

"House, listen I-"

"Greg, do you have a minute?" Stacy. Perfect. Just when he thought he might have had the nerve to have an actual conversation, this had to happen.

House looked at him, expectant. "Wombat here was-"

"No, it's ok. I'll see you later." She really did ruin everything.

HHHHHHHHH

_(Deception)_

"Have you talked to Chase?"

"Just told him to go run a test on the patient."

"No, I mean talking, an actual, meaningful conversation."

"Jimmy! I'm shocked! The patient doesn't mean anything to you?"

Wilson shook his head, hands falling to his hips.

"Uh-oh. Annoyed Wilson. I'm in trouble."

"You're ridiculous. You're just gonna let this happen? Let him think you don't give a damn?"

"Maybe I don't give a damn."

"Bullshit."

House sighed. "Ok, so I do give a damn. But he knows that."

"Does he?" Wilson shoved some files to the side and leaned back against House's desk. "Did you apologize for not telling him about his dad?"

A stiff nod.

"And…"

"Wasn't good enough." _Nothing I do ever is._

"House, he's upset. His father just died, and the person he's in love with is chasing after somebody else. He has more than enough license to snap. Everyone does, every now and then. I'm sure he was just angry."

Silence.

"He'll forgive you."

"It doesn't matter."

"I'd say it does."

House spun around in his chair slowly, like a bored kid. Maybe he could distract Wilson from the fact that he was upset by pretending that he wasn't. It worked on everybody else. Everybody but Wilson. And sometimes Stacy. An d Chase. That one was no fun to think about, and he swallowed hard. "He thinks I've already chosen Stacy."

"Have you?"

"I can't-"

"Right, I forgot. You don't know how to be a human being, so those feelings take lots of deciphering for you." Wilson stood up, rubbing his forehead. "This…You're maddening. You drive _me_ nuts. I can imagine what being in a relationship with you must be like." He almost left, but just had one more thing to add as he reached the door. "By the way, I know you're almost out of Vicodin. You've used up that bottle way too fast. Funny, the timing, isn't it?"

HHHHHHHHH

"So. You tried to get the bone marrow sample for my anyway."

Chase rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter. I didn't even make it in the room." He didn't want to have this discussion right now. Or any, really. Since they day he had been interrupted by Stacy they hadn't talked other than about the patient. He wasn't sure he was up to what this conversation might turn into.

"But you tried. Even though you said you wouldn't."

Saying he wouldn't had been more for show than anything else. Show, and residual anger. Frustration. Maybe he wasn't really sure. "Are you thanking me or are you going to tell me I'm an idiot? Either way, it's late. I'm heading home."

House toyed with his cane.

"Or is there something else you want me to do?" He had the sinking feeling that there was.

"No. You'd just screw it up. Take care of it myself."

And apparently, he trusted Chase to stay silent. That, at least, meant something. Maybe…

"But…I could use some more Vicodin. Almost out. And I don't think Wilson's feeling…Generous."

Immidiatly, so quickly it surprised even him, his concern for House washed away the frustration. "Have you been in more pain?"

Slowly, House nodded, though he wouldn't look at him. "Yeah."

"Did you ask him for more? Maybe something's going on maybe-"

"Look, it's nothing abnormal. Sometimes I go through them faster. Just…It's bad recently. It'll pass. But I need the pills."

He looked desperate, so needy that Chase found himself pulling out his pad before he could think better of it. Maybe he was lying, but he doubted it. Even if it was for his own good, Chase couldn't bear the thought of him being in pain. "Here." House took it just as quickly as he expected. "But…Don't let him know I gave you that."

"Obviously."

"Right." If this had been before, Chase would have hugged him then, even if House resisted. He would have given in, let him hold him, kiss him, take his mind off the pain. He forced himself to snap out of his thoughts. He couldn't do any of that anymore.

"I'm leaving for Baltimore Tuesday. Legal trip."

"Legal trip." Of course, he brought this up after he got his drugs. Ensure his connection, then give Chase the news he didn't want to hear.

A nod.

"With…Stacy." Why, why did he feel the need to tell him this?

He was looking out the window, the snow drifting down past the parking lot lights. "Chase…"

"It doesn't matter." He smiled, so forced and he knew House knew it. "If you…Work things out with her…You'll be happy." He left before House could say anything else. He didn't want to hear him say it was true.

HHHHHHHHH

_(Failure __To__ Communicate)_

It had seemed like, for awhile there, nothing was going to happen. Different flights. She didn't want to spend any time with him. Then, seeing her there…

He had turned off his phone then. If they thought he was unreachable, maybe they'd just deal with it themselves. And he could deal with his problem. Stacy. And maybe, maybe doing something would show him exactly what he wanted. He could, at least, think that it might. Nothing else had. His last conversation with Chase stuck in his head, the look on his face…He had almost kissed him, then, but he hadn't been sure how he would respond. And that was the problem now. Chase thought he was just not choosing him. He just wasn't choosing. Then there was Chase's father. Everything. Maybe too much.

But with Stacy, things were getting better. Maybe for one to get better the other had to get worse. She was having trouble with Mark, more trouble even than before. Now it wasn't just no sex, it was no sex and fighting over mail delivery. Interesting. He had been glad, until she cried. Seeing her cry…He had never been able to bear that. Especially because he never knew exactly what to do. He could always hold her, let her cry, but he didn't know how to _fix_ it and that bothered him. He wanted to fix everything. Especially for her. She put up with enough crap from him, he knew, things that he couldn't ever change. He was who he was. She had put up with that for a long time. She had loved him for a long time.

And that, the back of his mind said, was what should have put her before Chase. They had five years together. She loved him. He had chased her away. It seemed right that they patch things up, get back together. She said he was the one. Maybe they were meant for each other, if that sort of things actually was true. Maybe she was the perfect one for him.

But that was only one part of his brain. Other thoughts weren't so clear cut. They kept getting interrupted by things like memories of kissing Chase in his office, watching him cook dinner, that really amusing sigh of defeat when he made him watch a hockey game. The look in his eyes when he had said he loved him that time on the roof, just after he had gotten him off right there, where any number of people could have found them. Chase hadn't cared, and neither had he. Passion, intensity, compatibility, humor…love? At least, Chase loved him. Or said he did. Loving him wasn't as easy and clear cut as loving other(normal)people. He wasn't at all sure Chase knew that. Wasn't at all sure that he did love him for him, thought that maybe instead Chase thought he loved him. That would certainly make picking Stacy easier.

But if it was real…Best not to think about it. Besides, he had more important things to think about…Like the fact that they were announcing that he everyone was going to be in the airport overnight. Beautiful.

HHHHHHHHH

_**Bounce, thud.**_

_I couldn't tackle the bear. They took my stain._

_**Bounce, thud.**_

_What the hell does that mean?_

_**Bounce, thud.**_

_Our relationship is like an addiction._

_**Bounce, thud.**_

_It's like…__Vindaloo__ curry._

_**Bounce, thud.**_

_Then you wake up one morning and think…God, I really miss curry._

_**Bounce, thud.**_

She tasted just like he remembered. He would know, because he had dreamed about her for the last five years. Kissing her again had been so good. She was right. It was a high. An incredible high. He had been ready to make love to her, more than ready, but then…Of course he cared about the patient. He couldn't very well let the guy die because he wasn't in town. But it was more than that. On some level, he just knew he would't have been able to go through with what he had been planning. Not with that Australian accent still ringing in his ears. He threw the ball against the wall with more force.

Damn it. They had been so close. Stacy wanted him, loved him. He had it. Everything he had wanted, he had it. And he had just given it up, all because of some idiot with aphasia and Chase's damn accent.

As much as he didn't want to, it really made him wonder if it was what he had wanted after all.

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Confusion...one of many things House hates.

And...Need To Know...::sigh::


	26. Need To Know

Ok, so I loved tonight…House and Chase going in together on the bet. Chase's smile at the end. That was awesome.

Thanks to everyone for the reviews. :)

Nikelodean, I know…excruciating mental images…but you're right, throwing your work computer probably isn't the best idea…maybe find something to substitute? I threw a Magic 8 Ball out the window once…

You know I don't own House.

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_(Need To Know)_

"This was not just a one night stand. You can't toy with him." And Wilson wasn't at all sure she understood that. She didn't look like it. She looked, to him, like she had been curious. And, therefore, this conversation was an annoyance.

"I'm not." She sighed, now the picture of confused. "I don't…Know what I'm doing."

A statement that sounded eerily like House. Except the situations were completely different. "Oh boy."

"It's just…Coming back here…I remember why I loved him. Realized that I still do. I always have. And maybe we can work this out, I should…I should never have left."

Understatement. "No, you shouldn't, but you can't change the past or the feelings you had at that time…The things House did…All this could happen again."

She shook her head, only semi-convincingly. "No."

"What, because you know better now? Just because we know better doesn't mean we don't do stupid things. Based on that principle no one would ever do stupid things."

"I'm not even sure what Greg wants I just know…I don't know."

"No, you don't." A little bitter, but he couldn't stand it. This was all so…

She had caught something in the way he said it. "What don't I know? What aren't you telling me?"

Wilson thought hard, trying to determine how much he could tell. "You never even thought that he might have been getting a little better. Just in the past couple of months, mind you, but you never thought that he might actually be getting something in his life right? That maybe you coming back and screwing with him could mess that up?"

"He was…In a relationship?"

"Yes."

"And now?"

"No."

"Because of me."

"Obviously."

"With Lisa?"

"It doesn't matter who. But no. The point is, he had something coming together. And now…Now everything's in pieces. I'm fine with it if you'll make him happy. I want the two of you to be happy. But if you're going to leave him again…I want you to know what you'll be doing."

"If he chose me-"

Wilson held up his hand. He didn't want to get into that. That was territory too complicated to explain. "Just…Think about where you want this to go, what you want to happen. If you love him at all, think about what's best for House. That's all I'm saying."

HHHHHHHHH

_The following night_

Damn Cameron. Or, more accurately, the patient. If not for them, he'd still be in bed with Stacy. A strange turn of events in and of itself. He had made a choice. Maybe not initially, but with what it had turned into…

It had been the truth. He hadn't wanted her to go. Kissing her then had turned one thing into another until they were back at his place. Where work had still found him. Damn, damn, damn. The sex had been amazing, but then again when wasn't reunion sex amazing? Never. It was one of those things, like people said about chocolate or puppies. Something that was always good…

It felt good. _He_ felt good, and that was no small feat. She loved him. She had chosen him over Mark. How could he do any less? Everything was going to be better than before…He had to believe that.

And he had finally made a choice. Even so…He didn't exactly want to think, just now, about what the ramifications of that choice would be. The high would last a little longer. He wanted to milk it for all it was worth.

HHHHHHHHH

_Doubt if he makes it at all. I saw him leave with Stacy._

He had said it to keep the mood light, maybe a little bit just to get it off his chest. It was still there, a weight he couldn't shed. Just like how close she had been to him when he saw them leave, arm tucked inside his. They weren't leaving as friends or even as ex-lovers. Every body posture had 'I want you' written all over it. It was…Maddening. Maddening was easier to think about than how much it hurt. And he wished there was something, anything he could do to take away the images his mind willingly, sadistically constructed.

They had never ever had sex, not technically. Not that he hadn't want to, eventually. Sure, as a new thing he was a little nervous but he figured they'd get there. He'd wanted it, wanted to feel House inside him, wanted everything about the experience…Wanted to do the same to him, hear House cry out below him… He could remember with crystal clarity the way House looked when he came, that beautiful look that he would give anything to cause…the way his body shuddered, hands clutching at Chase. Amazing. All those thoughts combined, now, except Stacy took his place. Not a pretty picture. It was torture, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't clear his head of it.

Especially not when House came in singing.

It was over. He had lost. He had better damn well get used to it. _At least he's happy._ Despite how much he earnestly did want that, the fact brought him little comfort.

HHHHHHHHH

_If I never tell him, it'll never hurt._

He hadn't seen that one coming. So, accordingly, he hadn't expected the pain that came with it. It would never hurt? Hurt who? Who the fuck was she talking about it not hurting? Yeah, he might be cold but he wasn't heartless and she damn well knew it. If she never left Mark it would never hurt Mark…It would hurt House more than enough. More than enough to do very bad things. But she either didn't know or didn't care. Knowing and not caring…That was the worst combination of all, the one he feared and tried to think the least about.

_It'll never hurt._

Fucking hell. It hurt right now. Everything about it hurt. He knew he had chosen, and he had chosen her. To find that she couldn't do the same for him…

_You can have a life with me or you can have a life with Mark. You can't have both._

He had offered her a choice. The same one Chase had offered him. Her lack of an immediate answer had scared him. Now, ironically, he knew something of how Chase had felt. It hurt. It was confusing. He was a hypocrite.

His lack of response had meant he didn't know. Hers…Well, he knew her head was less screwed up than his. If she had loved him as much as he'd thought, her answer would have been immediate. Yes, I'll tell Mark tonight. I'm coming home with you. I love you.

All of that. If she would have just said all of that, or at least a part of it….

But she hadn't. She hadn't said anything, except to point at that she wanted to have sex with him but not be with him. Maybe it should have been some sort of twisted compliment that she still wanted him for the sex, and he would have played it off that way if anyone had asked but it wasn't just about the sex. It wasn't. And what she had offered was not a road he wanted to go down.

It hadn't been a hard question. _Have you told Mark yet?_ Yes would have been the best answer. Soon, or tomorrow, would have been alright. She hadn't said any of those either. Chase…He would have said he loved him. That thought came unbidden and he cursed everyone from Chase to Wilson to Stacy to himself under his breath.

It was just dawning on him that maybe, maybe he had fucked up. Maybe he had someone who would have loved him like that, no regard for anyone else. Maybe he had had that right in front of him. And he had ruined everything. A combination of actions, to be sure, but he had started it. Domino effect.

As much as it hurt, much as it ripped his heart out to admit it…If Stacy had loved him, really loved him, their conversation would have gone differently. She was happy with Mark, and that was a good thing for her. Mark was easy. Mark had a few more issues now, sure, but they were nothing like House's. Maybe she wanted easy. Maybe she loved him but not enough to deal. He didn't know, but what he did was that she wouldn't be happy with him. Even if she did come around, even if he 'won'…It wouldn't be what he wanted from her. It never could be.

All he could do now was the tell her how much it wouldn't work before she did tell Mark. Ha. If she ever even would. It wouldn't fix anything….Not for him. He had gambled, and he had lost everything. But at least he wouldn't make it any worse.

HHHHHHHHH

_I'm going to talk to Mark tonight…And I'm going to stay here with you._

He hadn't meant to hear it, walking by, but he had and…

Chase leaned against the wall two hallways over where he had finally stopped to catch his breath. Or his thoughts. Or his heart, that was about to beat out of his chest. She was staying. With House. _With_ House. It was over, decision made. It really hadn't been him.

He had hoped, even lately that maybe, maybe somehow….Some miracle…

"Maybe there's no such thing." He muttered it to no one in particular, and the empty hallway had no answer. He could still hear her. He hadn't heard House's response, but he knew he must have been happy. He had to have been. He was glad, in a very selfish way, that he hadn't heard that. Hearing _that_ voice happy for her… No. That would have been too much.

Who was he kidding. It was too much anyway.

He thought, briefly, of going to the chapel but he didn't feel like praying. He was too angry at God. He was angry at life. Getting drunk sounded unbelievably enticing. And convenient. Maybe he could forget what he had and be ready to hear the news from House tomorrow, maybe even meet it with a smile. For House's sake, he hoped everything worked out.

For his own, he thought he knew what it might feel like to lose your soul. It was, doubtless, at least in pieces.

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::sigh:: Poor Chase. And House. Damn, I really am torturing them with this storyline. Poor guys.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter….

Off to bed. Well. A conversation first, I think. I'm so going to sleep through Calculus tomorrow.


	27. Distractions

Well…didn't get to sleep in this morning(though I did oversleep and miss my alarm clock. lol).

And…I'll just get this started before I have to go talk to my advisor. Which, I hate doing, I'll admit it. ::sigh::

Happy Halloween to all of you here in the States! (Me, I'm dying my hair pink. Temporarily. Being Tonks is fun. )

Nope. No owning House.

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He just meant to look in her door as he walked by, maybe say hi if House wasn't around. Then he saw her packing. Perfect. She gave him a sad smile and he knew then that whatever it had been, it was over. Probably for good this time. With a sigh he went to her door, leaning against the frame. "What did House do?"

She laughed a little, probably at how well he knew. House was always 'doing' something. "He told me that…He couldn't make me happy. That I'd be better off with Mark. He told me that he could never change."

"He can't. Or, he won't. But I thought you knew that."

"I did. I do. I…Had decided I didn't care."

"Would you have cared, later?"

"I…I can't say. I don't know, because he didn't even give me that chance." She was crying, slowly, and he felt guilty for pushing her.

Stepping up to her, he hugged her comfortingly. "I'm sorry, Stacy."

"It's not your fault it's…Not even his. I guess I knew this couldn't end well. I just…Wanted to try."

Wilson rubbed her back, his protective instincts taking over. "I know. He did too, you know. He just…I don't know. He makes decisions sometimes for reasons I don't understand."

She took a deep breath, rested her head against his shoulder. "You know that other relationship you mentioned? Maybe he just chose her."

"I…Don't know."

"Does she love him?"

_Yes, __**he**__ does._ "From what I can tell? Yes." Somehow, he didn't think he should be the one to reveal to Stacy that the someone else was Chase. If anyone ever said anything, it should be House. "So…You're leaving."

"I can't stay. Not like this. It'd be too…"

"Hard."

She nodded, leaning back and wiping tears away from her eyes. "Everything with him is. God, I'm going to miss him. I had gotten used to life without him but…" She shook her head.

"I know. I'm sorry." He hated to ask, but even as sorry as he felt for her, House was his main concern. "Do you know where he went?"

"I don't know. Maybe home. You know he runs to the roof when he's upset."

HHHHHHHHH

_Being miserable doesn't make you better than anyone else, House. It just makes you miserable._

Well, wasn't that insightful? Being miserable made you miserable. A five year old could have found that Captain Obvious connection. He knew he was miserable. What he didn't know was if that would ever change, or even if it should. Maybe he didn't deserve it. As stupid and clichéd as that sounded it was true. He didn't feel he deserved to be happy. He was right, almost always right, and when you had been told for years that you were always wrong, maybe being just right had to be enough.

If that was the only thing he ever had, it would be worth it. Or so he had always said. Until Stacy. Until he knew the difference, knew that he could get more out of life and actually enjoy it. Enjoy her company and their life together. Love her. But it ended, only confirming his belief that love was conditional. If he that belief had begun to waver in recent months, well, it was re-cemented now. Love was always, always conditional, just like everything else. There was no such thing as irrational love, love beyond the point of caring about yourself. Everyone always put themselves first when it came down to it.

That was, at least, what he had learned.

Maybe Stacy would be happy now, with Mark. Maybe. He hoped that would be the case. And Chase…

Thinking about him, he realized that was one thing that, at the moment, he knew nothing about.

HHHHHHHHH

No matter how hard he tried, Chase knew he could never have had anything positive to say about House and Stacy. He had gone over it in his head, imagined that he could tell House he was happy for him but it was a lie. It had been hard enough to say once. He couldn't say it again. Much less now, when they really were together. Them, together. It made him sick.

He couldn't help but think that maybe there was something else he could have done. House had, for awhile there, still been undecided. And he had done nothing. Maybe if he had reached out to him then, this wouldn't be happening. But he had tried, and his nerve had failed him. More than once he hadn't even gotten as far as an opening statement. He was just too afraid of rejection.

Thinking about it, he wasn't sure if he could stand it. Whether or not House knew it, he loved him. More than anything. Even after all the shit that had come between them. If this was the way things were going to be, he wasn't sure he could live with it.

It might be time to head back to Australia.

HHHHHHHHH

_(Distractions)_

"What did House say about the orgasm in the oxygen chamber?"

"He didn't say anything. He just gave himself a migraine." Cameron tossed the file angrily onto the counter, though even the angry gesture couldn't hide the concern in her eyes. Though, it was nothing compared to Chase's at that statement.

"He did what?"

"Apparently, self-induced a migraine."

Foreman shook his head. "Nothing he does is surprising. This is _House_. We should just…Find a way to handle it. The patient still needs our attention. Come on, let's go."

"And do what?" If he meant just leaving House to deal with it, Chase wasn't about to do that.

"We'll do what he wants and give him drugs. Then he'll berate us for being idiots, then he'll tell us what to do. Come on."

HHHHHHHHH

"Hey."

House groaned faintly, eyes squeezing shut.

"It's alright, I'm not turning on the lights."

"You're nicer than Wilson."

Chase sighed. "Yeah well…." There was nothing else there that he really needed to say, so he changed the subject. "You did this to yourself."

"Cameron is both perceptive and a big talker. When she wants to be. She's not perceptive if it involves…ow."

"Don't talk so much." Chase brushed a hand over House's eyes, shielding a little from the light through the cracks of the blinds. "Why did you do this?"

"The drug doesn't work."

"What drug?"

"Von Lieberman's."

"…Right." It didn't matter, really, his reasons. All that mattered was the he had done something stupid and now he was paying for it. Normal, for House. It hurt to see him in pain, but it brought up an even more painful scenario. He shouldn't really be the one here doing the comforting. He drew his hand away. "Where's Stacy?"

"Gone."

"Gone as in…"

"Gone as in out of the hospital, not working here anymore, that kind of gone."

"Gone as in…the two of you…"

"Does that matter?"

"I guess not. Sorry." If he didn't want to talk about it, that was fine. Maybe he didn't want to make Chase talk about it. Whatever the reason, he would respect it. And leave.

HHHHHHHHH

"Do you have any idea what House is doing?"

_No, and, frankly, I'm not sure I want to._ "…He has a migraine, I know that."

"He treated it. With LSD."

"Effective." He felt like being a little bit of a smart ass. Wilson was concerned, Chase knew, but it wasn't the same anymore. Wilson couldn't come to him expect him to fix it. He couldn't fix it. He couldn't do anything.

"It's dangerous!"

"No more so than the Vicodin, really, and he uses that all the time. Look, I know the reasoning on that is a little whacked but it doesn't really matter. He didn't overdose since you're standing here telling me and unless he has a bad trip and jumps off the building, something I can do nothing about, I don't see why you're so worked up. This is House. Just…don't have any expectations of him and you won't be disappointed." The last part was added bitterly, and he knew Wilson would catch it.

"Is that what you're doing now? Expecting so little of him he can't possibly screw it up?"

"…Yeah. Pretty much."

Wilson shook his head, sad but understanding. "Chase…"

"I'm thinking of going back home." He wasn't sure why he said it, except that he had to tell somebody. Every secretly harbored thought got to that point eventually, the point where it was too stressful to just keep it to yourself.

Wilson's eyes widened. "Australia?"

"Yeah."

"Chase…I shouldn't be the one explaining this, but he loves you."

"Damn good way of showing it."

"Chase…."

"Look…He was interested. But nothing you can say will make me believe he loves me. Not when he's with her." Chase turned to leave, but Wilson's final words stopped him.

"He isn't."

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::pokes Wilson:: Good boy. (and good for Nikelodean for calling that moment when I had it written but not posted )

Ok, so I definitely meant to have this up last night, but my internet went wacky(insert rant about the 'joys' of wireless). Sorry about that.


	28. Half Hearted Attempts

rry, I agree about The Beatles. They can brighten pretty much anything. Especially w/ Hey Jude, at least for me. :) (and poor C3PO….)

and twitchy, I sent you a reply to your question that you may or may not have gotten based on my "lovely" internet connection last week…

I am sorry this took so much longer than normal…things have been a little crazy lately, what with friends having personal issues, my best friend leaving the country(something I am trying very hard NOT to think about), and there's still those pesky things called classes…

Do not own House. I. Right.

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_He's isn't._ House wasn't with Stacy? Wasn't? "Since when?"

"Since a few days ago. She's gone."

"I found out she was gone but I wasn't sure they were…What happened?"

"That's really for him to tell you-" Chase moved to walk away but Wilson grabbed his arm "BUT…I will tell you that it was his decision. Not hers. She didn't leave him. He told her it was over."

Chase's mouth went dry. "Why?"

"Talk to him."

He wanted to. God, he wanted to. "…I might."

"I thought you could forgive him." Wilson was giving him that look, that chastising 'be better than this' look that so often fell on House.

"Don't…Say that so high and mighty like you're better than me. You can forgive him anything, you're not…Your relationship with House is different."

Wilson nodded. "It is. But even if it wasn't…I know he makes mistakes."

"This wasn't just a mistake, this was a deliberate 'I want to get back together with my ex'. And he did. They slept together, for however short a time, they _were_ together. That isn't like forgetting my birthday or not doing the dishes."

"You haven't been…Perfect either." Wilson said it slow, eyes away from Chase's as if he hated to play that card.

Almost as much as Chase hated that he had said it. "That…That was a mistake. It was fucked up, yes, and I was dead wrong to do it but…It wasn't the same. I have no feelings for Cameron, and I never have."

He could tell Wilson knew he had a point, and he didn't push that subject anymore. "Do you want to work this out with House?"

"Yes. But that doesn't mean it will. What you want and what you get are a lot of times two different things. I'm sure you wanted to work it out with your first two wives but you should know by now that sometimes that just doesn't happen. No matter how much you want it."

HHHHHHHHH

Wilson was getting a little tired of being the House's baby sitter. And conscious. And heart. And so many other things his mind failed to list them all. Maybe he was more than a little tired of it. Not that he was ready to quit, or that he would ever quit. Just that… He wanted House for once to just do something of his own accord.

"House."

He was sitting in the dark, and the look he gave Wilson when his eyes rose was enough to give him chills. He looked… It was hard to describe, defeated, but scarily so… Unlike most people who went to an acceptable level of sorrow self hatred and despair was an art for House. Over the years, he had it down very well.

Wilson shoved down the worry enough to focus on the conversation. "You need to talk to Chase."

"About what? Politics? Religion? Global Warming? You know it has been-"

"HOUSE." Wilson rubbed his eyes hard, shaking his head. "I don't know if I can deal with your insanity much longer." He sighed. "Just…Do what you want. But if you love him and say nothing, you're the one fucking this up. He's thinking about leaving you know."

"Maybe he should."

"Do you really want that? Really?"

"…No."

"Then-"

"And hear him say what? That I lost my chance? Sorry, I'm not quite that much of a glutton for punishment." Wilson was a little surprised at the vehemence behind the words. At least he was telling the truth.

"You don't know what he'll say because you haven't tried! Look, I'm tired of telling you what to do. You should have had to figure out all this for yourself, any normal individual would have but you… You have to risk something in order to gain something, House. Sometimes you have to risk a lot. It all depends on the worth of what you stand to gain."

"Thanks for the inspirational message. Can I rip the page off and go on to the next day now? Maybe something about how everyone has a finite number of chances, and once those are up-"

"Has Chase said that?" House said nothing. "Then talk to him. And hope he has more sense than you."

"He won't."

At Wilson's puzzled look, House clarified.

"Talk to me. He has every reason not to. More reasons than he knows not to."

"And those would be…"

"Forget it."

"He already knows that you and Stacy-"

"Forget it."

HHHHHHHHH

He had always hated hypocrisy, and that was part of the irony of it. The very thing he had done to Chase…He had felt the pain of the other side of it and realized just what Chase meant. Realized that maybe he should have known to begin with, there was something different about his relationship with Chase…

Something that might could have lasted, if only he hadn't been such an idiot. That was the problem. He was always an idiot. He wasn't good at starting conversation and even worse at apologies, but one thing at least that Wilson had alluded to was true…He didn't really have anything to lose.

If Chase refused to talk to him, sure, his depression would hit an all time low but really, it was already on its way there. At the moment he had nothing. Nothing was an easy thing to risk. His pride on the other hand…That one was harder. He had apologize to Chase before, though the last time Chase had never forgiven him. For his father. There were a million excuses…he was angry, he was upset, they hadn't talked about it since, but it all came back to that fact that his apology hadn't been good enough.

If it didn't matter if he was sorry, it didn't seem like it should matter if he said it. But that, he knew, wasn't the way things worked. Apologies for some things were expected, even if they weren't accepted. Just like it was expected for a criminal to apologize at a murder trial, but the victim's family didn't have to accept. A bit of a harsh example, but the principle was the same.

He didn't expect anything from Chase. He wanted…More than he would readily admit. For the short term, he wanted to grab him and shove him against the nearest wall until he couldn't breathe. Long term…The way things had been going had been good. He liked that. _But, that doesn't matter anymore now does it? __Because you're a bastard._

He could at least apologize. Even if Chase never accepted it. He'd apologize, and he'd leave it alone. He couldn't hope, really, for any more than that.

HHHHHHHHH

"Chase."

Chase froze, hand still hovering over the cup on the conference table he had been about to pick up. He was almost ready to go. "Yes?"

"I…"

House sounded uncertain, and that was interesting enough to make Chase turn around.

"I understand, now, why you thought I was using you. I wasn't. But I am sorry. For everything." He looked like it took everything he had to get it out, and when he was finished he turned around and left without waiting for Chase to respond. Chase was too stunned to call after him.

Feeling strangely weak and confused, Chase sank into the chair, head in his hands. House had apologized. He hadn't had to. Why, then, did he not feel any better?

HHHHHHHHH

**Do you talk to Chase?**

Did he talk to Chase…Well, House knew he obviously did at work. Reading between the lines, he wanted to know if he had talked to him after work. Specifically, today.

**Haven't since this afternoon.**** Did you?** When House had failed to answer after 15 minutes, Wilson texted him again. **What did you say to him? ****Are you wanting**** to know if he's alright?**

**I didn't say that.**

**Then what ****are you wanting**

**Forget it. Thanks for nothing.**

Wilson sighed and turned his phone off. He had the urge to talk to Chase now, but maybe for once it would be better if he kept out of it. It might force House to check up on him himself. Or, it might backfire and he'd find out tomorrow he should have played the middle ground. If that was the case, he could guilt trip tomorrow. Right now…House just might be learning something. And that fact was worth the waiting.

HHHHHHHHH

He answered on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

He sounded…Well maybe a little drunk. It was hard to tell from one word. Maybe he'd give a few more.

"Hello?"

Same one. Still a maybe.

"…House?"

House swallowed hard and slammed the phone down. Somehow, he had figured it out. Or maybe he was the only one crazy(stupid)enough to call Chase's apartment at one in the morning and just listen. He must have been drinking. He was drinking all the time now. It used to be an occasion to get him to get drunk on one night out of the week. Now this…Not that it was interfering with his job. Yet. It might never interfere with his job. But it could kill him. Under the influence, he could kill himself. None of which should have been House's problem anymore.

His phone vibrated in his hand and he started, then looked down at the screen.

**If you want to talk, then don't hang up. If you don't want to talk, don't call.**

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Things are sort of inching toward a better direction. Sort of.

Might get another chapter up tonight, though I might not because I really need to study for a test…It all depends. Hope you guys enjoy, and I am sorry I've been so caught up the past few days.


	29. Skin Deep

Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! They are great warm fuzzies(when it's cold. Really cold. Brr.).

Ok, I was gonna wait to answer this but so many people have asked, so here are my plans for the story(without giving away to much to you. heh): I am continuing into season 3(hoping you guys stay with me that long…)I know where this is going, and I know the ending(I actually already have the last chapter mostly written). While I have kept very very very close to the story up until now, without giving away too much I can tell you that I agree that House and Chase's relationship couldn't survive the "It's Tuesday. I like you." insanity. Plus, that would mean Chase falling in love with Cameron…which wouldn't happen, with the way I've written Chase. There will be a point in the third season where this goes AU, only for the Cameron reasons(that makes it sound like some mysterious case…lol). So…there will be plenty of familiar elements from season three, some of them painful(a couple involving Cameron…) but nothing impassable, like Chase's search for a meaningful relationship with "the harpie"(which one of you said that? That was good….). So, I'll torture them, but not past what they could get through…pretty sure I said before, I love a happy ending. And that will always be true. (random fact…when I began this story, I had intended to do it all as is, Cameron and everything, but I was only about three chapters in before I realized there was no way that was feasible. lol)

I don't own House. (but I kind of wish I did…because I would be making damn sure I found writers

From ANY possible source just in case this strike goes on too long…)

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He wasn't really surprised when House didn't call back, but that didn't mean he hadn't been hoping he would. He had thought, maybe, House had wanted to have an actual conversation. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe House didn't care at all and had just been covering his ass by making sure Chase was alright. Cuddy would have one of her screaming fits if anything she felt like was House's fault happened.

He was on his way to the kitchen when he heard the knock on the door. He paused before he went to it, not wanting to hope. Hope was dangerous, but in this case he was almost certain he was right…No one else knocked on his door at this hour. Just to calm his nerves, _show that it isn't him_, he looked through the peephole before he opened the door…

And saw House, leaning against the door frame. Chase took a deep breath. Maybe he did want to talk after all.

HHHHHHHHH

House was just hoping Chase would let him in. He knew he was home, because he had only taken about 10 minutes to decide he might as well just go over there. If he was going to do something stupid, he might as well go all out and do something really stupid, like try to talk to him in person. When you had nothing, you had nothing to lose. Who had said that…Bob Dylan? Maybe. A lot of people had said that. It was true, even though losing the "nothing" could still be still be painful. He knew he could never have said anything over the phone, and he knew he might not say anything now. He might only get as far as snappy comebacks and a few almost good statements but he was, at least, going to try.

Chase pulled open the door, the surprise fairly evident in his eyes, though House could tell he was making every effort to act like this was normal. "Come on in."

House could never think of the right thing to say. He knew it, he had known it almost all his life. He could quote facts all day but anything that he felt and…He'd rather not say, or even allude to it. He did things. Sometimes those impulses worked well for him, sometimes they backfired. It was hit and miss, but he had to hope this one wouldn't miss too badly because he had absolutely no idea how to begin the conversation they need to have….

He instead did what he did know for a fact he wanted to do, and dropped his cane to grab Chase's collar in both hands and pin him back up against the now closed door. He kissed him hard, for a moment not noticing or even caring if Chase responded because it felt _so good _to be kissing him again… When his sense kicked back in he realized Chase _was_ responding, kissing him back with equal force, hands on his chest and across his shoulders and constantly moving as if he couldn't touch him enough.

House pressed harder against him, pulled back only to draw in a quick ragged breath before resuming the kiss, one hand sliding up from Chase's collar to tilt his head back farther. Chase moaned, tightened his grip, one hand tugging at House's shirt in a desperate attempt to make him pull back long enough to remove it. It was wonderfully tempting, but he knew if things kept going this way, they were going to have to move away from the door. He could stand for awhile against a wall but his leg wouldn't be able to take this…And besides, as much as he wanted Chase's hands on him _now_, he hadn't come here just for this. And, he realized, he didn't want Chase to think he had.

He pulled away hesitantly, regretting it even more when Chase rubbed his side with a warm hand under his shirt. "Chase…" Now he actually had to say something. Something important. At least something logical. "I'm not…I told Stacy not to stay."

Chase closed his eyes and sighed, shoulders sagging a little. "I heard."

"I meant it."

"Why? Because you got scared or because-"

"Because I was wrong." Chase's eyes snapped open. There. He had his attention. "I…"

Chase bent and picked up his cane, handed it to him and motioned for him to sit down. Which he did, taking a seat on one end of the couch and hoping that somehow Chase would finish his thought for him. "How so?"

How was he wrong? Well that got into what she said had said and that got into what House had done to Chase and none of that was safe territory. He didn't even know how to say it as basically as he could. "I….She didn't love me."

"I could have told you that. Wait…Didn't I tell you that?"

Snappy, but he deserved it. Odd for Chase though. He cut his eyes around the apartment. Open bottle in the kitchen. He had suspected. "You did. You also told me to make up my mind which I couldn't. Something I….should have been able to do." He couldn't look at Chase. "I should have before, but I have now."

"And?"

"She's gone isn't she?"

Chase sighed, looking tired and confused. Apparently, he didn't know whether to believe House or not. House didn't blame him. He wasn't so sure he would have believed him either, if their roles had been reversed. Chase went into the kitchen, presumably to pour another glass, but House was close behind him. He grabbed the bottle just as he went to pour it. "No. No more."

Chase's glare was venomous. House pried the bottle from his hand, thankful that he was stronger.

"This is out of control."

"No it isn't."

"Yeah, it is. Why do you think people with drinking problems tend have such a long line of it in their family? I mean, you'd think one of them would hate it enough to quit, right? Well that was the case, and you didn't touch it, until now. And now, you can't stop. Addiction runs in your family, you're a doctor, you know everything I just said is true and you knew better than this."

Chase laughed, bitterly. "Yeah. I did. I hated it. I was careful."

"Yeah, well, you slipped up." He was only angry because he was worried. Chase had to see that. He had to.

"Don't lecture me. This is your fault. You want to blame someone, you did this to me! I was fine, I didn't have any problems until you fucked everything up!"

He had known it already, had known that he had driven Chase to this but…Knowing it for himself and hearing Chase say it were two different things. Hearing Chase say it…That was worse than he could have even imagined it would be. He had caused this. He had fucked everything up. Not surprising. He always did. "…you're right. I'm not…Anything remotely good for you. I should have just left you alone." He left, pretty sure he heard Chase say something else to stop him. He wasn't sure, but it didn't matter. Chase would be better off if he just left him the hell alone.

HHHHHHHHH

_(Skin Deep)_

_(The following morning)_

It didn't take him all that long to realize what he had done. House had come here to talk and, like an idiot, he had run him off with what was probably one of the worst things he could have said. _This is your fault…_

He was an idiot. Sure, everyone said stupid things when they were drunk but this…This took the cake. The regret was unbelievable and only added to his current headache. He had been up since House left, but he hadn't been drinking. The things he had said to House had, at least for the time being, forced him to focus. House was right. He was addicted. He was becoming his mother.

More than that, House had just done everything but told him he wanted to work things out…That was everything he had wanted to hear for so long. He wasn't sure House was over Stacy, he wasn't sure of anything but House wanted to try and that…That was enough.

He wasn't sure, now, if he had killed any chance of that but he had to be the one to reach out now…

He threw on some clothes and got out the door as quickly as possible, heading for House's apartment.

HHHHHHHHH

9:19. The damn alarm had been going off for the past 30 minutes and he had been hitting the snooze. He just didn't feel like getting up. Ever, actually, but particularly not at the moment. His leg hurt like hell. Logically, he knew the sudden upswing in pain had been brought about by the conversation last night but all he could or would acknowledge was the pain. He needed Vicodin. He needed to not go into work(Cuddy would kill him). He wasn't sure he even cared what Cuddy would do to him. He could take a sick day. He did have those.

He sat up carefully, hands rubbing his leg to try to ease some of the cramp in the muscle. Oh, today was going to be fun…

"Hey." The voice was soft and hesitant, and though he wasn't used to anyone being in his apartment these days it didn't really make him jump. He hadn't expected Chase to show up, but maybe he had wanted him to.

Still, that didn't mean he had to look at him. Or answer. But… "Don't. You were right."

"_No_, I wasn't. I was wrong. You were right. I'm…It is out of control. And it's me who screwed up. This isn't your fault. It's mine."

Hearing that before now would have been nice. Now, he wasn't sure if he could believe it. Sure, Chase was responsible for his own actions but House was never good in relationships with other people, the strain of dealing with him was just too much…He should have known better than to mess with Chase's life.

He heard Chase, move, felt his weight shift onto the bed behind him until he was up against him from behind. "House…Listen to me. I was drunk. I was…An idiot. And you were trying to look out for me. You…Always do in some way or another. But just saying I'm better off without you that's…That's not true and it's not an answer. I didn't mean anything I said last night, but I know the things you said…You did. And if you want to work this out…It's what I've wanted all along."

House sighed, still unwilling to answer. This couldn't end well. There were still so many issues between them, trust issues most of all… Chase slid his arms around his waist, coaxing him back against his chest. He couldn't pull away.

Chase rested his head against House's shoulder, welcome and familiar. "Greg…" House realized he liked the way that sounded with his accent, soft and just different enough from Stacy's that it didn't remind him of anything else. "Please, talk to me. I'm sorry. Just…I'm not saying things won't be harder now but I think we can still work this out…We can try…" His lips found House's neck and tilted his head in response, giving him better access. "Answer me…"

House nodded, slightly. It was enough, Chase understood. They would still, he knew, at some point talk about why House told Stacy to leave or why Chase hadn't forgiven him or why a dozen other things, but whatever happened now…At least they were together again. At least they could fight within that context, in a relationship again. It wasn't anything approaching back to normal, but it was a start.

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And finally, a little bit of happiness. lol

Thanks, Linker27 for the good luck on the test…I studied until I could recite that stuff backwards and I actually think I did really well….Here's hoping, at least. lol


	30. the new chapter 1 is up!

And this is the last time I'm doing a chapter that's not actually a chapter, I swear, XD

Just wanted to let you guys know that the new chapter 1 is up, and I will be trying to keep updates regular as I edit the others, ^^ Hopefully soon, you'll be back to getting actual new chapters and this will go away.

Thank you so, SO much to everyone who messaged me and said you had a copy of the story- I cannot believe there were several of you out there. That blows my mind and makes me want to cry and squeal all at the same time, lol Also, very special thanks to MorganD who had a file that included the ancient elusive shower scene! You are my hero, and I am so happy to have that part of the story back, :D

Alright, hope you guys enjoy; I'm going back to writing, ^^ (Also, for anyone who may be interested, I'll be posting this story on AO3 now too, since that's my new favorite place for fic. My name over there is whreflections, just in case anyone would rather read it there or anything like that.)


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